<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Pillow Talk by Victoria G (selftaughthuman)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786106">Pillow Talk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/selftaughthuman/pseuds/Victoria%20G'>Victoria G (selftaughthuman)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Messiness of Life &amp; Side Stories [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mai-HiME</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, F/F, POV First Person, Pillow Talk, Relationship Discussions, Sex Talk, Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:54:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/selftaughthuman/pseuds/Victoria%20G</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A side story within "The Messiness of Life" timeline. A discussion about sex had between two people with very different perspectives on the matter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fujino Shizuru/Kuga Natsuki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Messiness of Life &amp; Side Stories [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Natsuki</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This takes place within the timeline of "The Messiness of Life" about one year after they initially get together. I don't think you would need to read the other story for this one to make sense, but it would provide some additional context for certain sections. </p><p>This is being posted in an attempt to clear out a few stories that were written but never posted within "The Messiness of Life" timeline, most as aborted plotlines or from a time when the plan for the main story was an alternating first-person POV between the two mains. I suppose I find myself thinking I might as well put this out there since it was fully written some time ago.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I was lying half on top of her with my head tucked into her neck, listening to her breathe. The steady, but quick thump of her pulse and those unsteady exhales mixed with the sound of the pounding rain outside. Closing my eyes, I tried to let the noises fill my head, only getting a moment’s peace before my brain started right back up again.     </p><p>She’d said nothing, only kissed me when things got heavy, when I told her I didn’t want her to touch me back after. That kiss was what stole my thoughts because it was definitely an apology. God, I couldn’t stand when she felt guilty about things that were in no way her fault. It was signature of hers, that needless guilt and was instant motivation for me to distract her as thoroughly as I was capable of. I honestly believed that my whole <em>‘too agitated to be touched’</em> thing was gone, but I should’ve known better. It was a totally different beast than my normal nervousness about sex, which was pretty much not a thing with her anymore anyway. What I felt tonight had nothing to do with Shizuru or sex at all. It was an annoyingly familiar low-grade panic that came out of nowhere, harassing me relentlessly like some irritating itch I couldn’t scratch out. The constant buzzing it generated in my body, made me feel both unstable and tense. It took every single thing I already found hard about being physical with someone and made it intolerably strong. </p><p>It was aggravating this issue would come back when being with her felt so damn good.  I was disappointed as hell and just felt stupid about it. Shizuru, of course, was as good about it as she was about every quirk that popped up. She was pretty much superhuman in her ability to be endlessly understanding and patient about whatever weirdness was inside me. Nothing ever seemed to bother her about us this way and she wasn’t shaken. Something like this so easily could; I guess it was more than <em>could</em> to me…I really thought this <em>should</em> bother her, me saying I didn’t want her to reciprocate. It was crazy to me that it didn’t. If she was hiding any hurt though, it was well enough that there weren’t any hints for me to see. All I could tell was that wanted to but wouldn’t press for it. I’d been able to let her get me there for months, even when it took a while and why it couldn’t stay that way, I didn’t know.</p><p>A large part of her seeing this I thought, was that we were spending way more time together now. It was apparently permission, as far as my brain was concerned, to unleash every idiosyncrasy I had in her presence. When I had a legitimate and explainable reason to be upset or balk at something, I could tolerate the emotional exposure. <em>This</em>…Jesus. I couldn’t explain it, I hated it, and I could count on one hand anyone who I’d ever let see me like this. How keyed up I could get; it was excruciating to let people close to me see. I’d never talked about these feelings with anyone. How could I say there was this nameless, strangling energy that possessed me completely sometimes, frying my nerve-endings and turning me into this physically and emotionally over-stimulated mess of a person? Although it didn’t happen to me often, it had been with me, random and unwelcome since I woke up from that coma. Both of those things sounded insane, made me feel somehow damaged, and being totally unable to help it or self-soothe was just humiliating.   </p><p>There were still times where I absolutely needed to be alone in it because that’s who and how I was, but it wasn’t a given that solitude was what I craved anymore. Sometimes now…what I wanted was <em>her</em>, which was a new thing for me. There were even times where I wanted specific things from her…her arms around me or to lay my head in her lap and sleep it off. It was taking a lot of time for me to fully accept how safe she could make me feel. As opposite as it sounded, safety felt like a bad omen in my life. It became whispers in my head, another shoe suddenly dangling and ready to drop each time I caught myself melting into her. None of that mattered enough to make me retreat in the face of all her positives, but it was irritatingly there in the back of my mind.</p><p>There was another, even more unexpected thing I craved when I felt like this. I’d been irritatingly on the edge of panic all day and even though I was more okay now, that build-up, all that residual twitchiness was still trapped inside my body. It was vicarious as much as it was attraction; my preoccupation with wanting to touch her when I felt stressed. Sex always seemed to instantly pull her in completely, relax her, calm her, and leave her with a happy lightness. Shizuru sinking into my touch the way she did and letting me wear her out, it was medicine when my own mind and skin couldn’t relax. Watching her totally in her own body and showing me whatever she was feeling as if there wasn’t a single reason not to…it was such an amazing turn-on. That wasn’t exactly helpful tonight, but the truth was that finding something as normal as that hot, I was kind of addicted to that too. There was also the fact that running my fingers or lips over her, kissing her skin could flip me inside out and drown me in this ridiculously calming sensation of…I don’t know…rightness? It was hard to get enough of and most of the time when I felt like this, she had to tell me that she needed me to stop.</p><p>I let my eyes draw down the plane of her stomach, as she hummed quietly on a sigh, sounding so completely relaxed, satisfied with life. God, she just felt everything about sex so differently than I did. It seemed so easy for her.</p><p>I’d always had a tendency toward obsession when anything snatched my attention like her reactions to us did. It had been months since my brain started chewing relentlessly on a desire to know what it was like for her when we slept together. This time though, the problem was that there were no places to go to research or people I could shakedown for information except one. The only way to wrap my head around how she felt when we did it, what it felt like for her at the moment would be to ask her directly. I wasn’t sure that was okay to do, either in general or for my own sake. I wasn’t sure I could even say the words out loud anyway. We’d been together about a year now and the questions started the very first night we ever had sex. I could say and do a lot more than I ever thought I would be able to at this point but asking her what I wanted to was a whole different animal. Jesus, was it this persistent little thing biting at me every damn time and getting impossible to ignore, slowly strangling my hesitance.</p><p>It must’ve been how many questions had built up coupled with how preoccupied I was, that made one suddenly slip out tonight.</p><p>“What does it feel like for you?” I said, shocking myself.</p><p>“Hmm?” There was sleepiness in her voice, a deep inhale lifting me up with her ribcage.  </p><p>“Having one.” I clarified, trying not to disintegrate into crumbs of embarrassment. My hand was tracing absent-mindedly across her side, I didn’t notice I was doing it until I registered her soft skin on my fingertips.</p><p>“Do you…mean an orgasm, Natsuki?” She sounded more than a little surprised but didn’t seem upset. She might be okay with me asking. I nodded, pressed my lips gently against her neck just as much to hide my face as for the pleasure of it.  “MmmI suppose...” She spoke around her reaction to my kisses and I stopped what I was doing to let her think because for some crazy reason she was going to answer me. “That it feels different depending on the type, no?”</p><p>I stiffened before I could catch it. <em>Types?</em> “You have types?!”</p><p>“Do you never feel them differently?” She questioned me, sounding honestly unsure.</p><p>I took a second to search for a response, but there was nothing. “Can we just talk about you for now?”</p><p>In the quietness that followed, I wondered if it was ridiculous to ask that. “We can, but I would very much like to talk about you at some point.”</p><p>That was fair I guess, and such a typically compassionate concession. What could I do but nod even if I wasn’t sure how much I could offer back? <em>She had different types.</em> What the hell did that even mean? My own only had a volume dial that I had no damn control over. A totally useless feature.</p><p>The curiosity was starting to eat me alive and it was only another minute before I gave into it. “What are the types like?”</p><p>Her voice was soft and uncertain. “Are you asking how they feel individually?”</p><p>I was, but was that too lewd or too personal? I didn’t know and I had no context for this. I’d never spoken about sex with anyone before despite Mai’s attempts at ‘girl talk’ and Nao’s teasing.  Not beyond the inadvertent confirming that I’d had it. It wasn’t something I wanted to do before.</p><p>“You don’t have to answer, Shizuru.” </p><p>“No, no. It’s alright.” I felt and heard her sigh softly as fingernails dragged over my upper back lazily, making my eyelids heavy. “I suppose, it is difficult to capture fully with description alone, but sometimes it feels…I guess I would say shocking? Something like a quick pop or a snap. Those are more welcome relief than anything else where the enjoyment is in the build to them more than the experience itself. Others are very different.” There was a minute where she chased her thoughts. “There are some that last longer. They are more like these rolling waves of heat and pleasure, with this …tingling that travels across the skin of my stomach and the tops of my thighs.” Another deep breath and I didn’t move an inch. Listening to her talk in that slightly serious, brain-coating voice always took me to another place, but this was something else completely. She was talking with her hands too as they touched my shoulder, matching her vocal cadence like she was pulling the words right out of my skin or something. “The last type is difficult to put to words. It is more of a muscular tightening and releasing that concentrates in a much deeper place. Certainly, there are variations in strength and duration…but that is how I would describe them in general. Does that make any sense to you?”</p><p>I tried to ignore the effect hearing her talk about this had. Instantly, I was picturing what her face looked like minutes ago and trying to match it to one of those. How she explained it, there were similarities to what I felt, but it was missing what was hardest for me…the relentless tension, the resistance. That wasn’t important though. I only wanted to keep her talking about herself.  </p><p>“Yeah. It does.” I wondered what she liked more. “Which one is better?”</p><p>There was that gentle hum of a laugh, which I felt through her neck and chest. It pulled a small smile from my lips. “I would say that the rolling sort is my favorite if I had to choose. The third type is rather nice at times though, if I’m in the mood for something a bit more…intense.”</p><p>Not sure why she’d paused before the word ‘intense’, I decided I needed to see her face. When I did, she was watching me with a little bit of confusion sitting inside a whole lot of affection. It was about half a second before I got totally distracted. Those eyes in dimmer light, they lost almost all their color…became this gorgeous glossy brown-black that shined with flecks of red as they stared up into mine. How much I liked those random flashes of liquid-like burgundy, made me think Alyssa’s reverence for colors had rubbed off on me. Her eyes could be difficult to read, but right now they were all warmth and openness. With her hair down and natural, strands of it laying across her shoulders and collarbone…I had to look away to make my brain work again, so I could say what I wanted to.</p><p>“Have I ever done that to you? The rolling one?”</p><p>Her smile and me, we both turned self-conscious. “Quite a few times, yes.”</p><p>My curiosity over this flooded back in and made itself into another question. “How?”</p><p>God, there were so many how’s she could ask me right back. I had a few I probably should be asking myself. How was I saying these things? How come I wanted to know this? It was turning into one of those singular times between us when I couldn’t control my mouth.</p><p>The question clearly caught her out. “Do you mean for me to say how you touched me to provoke them?”</p><p>I guess I did but phrased like that, the line of inappropriateness was glaring. “Sorry.” Her hand reached up to my cheek and shook her head at me.</p><p>“Please. They tend to happen nearly every time you,” And then impossibly, whatever she didn’t say, made her flush like crazy. Even though I could only faintly see the pink as pink, it was very there. “Ara,” She whispered to herself sounding almost amused, tilting her chin back and training her eyes on the ceiling. I watched as the color crept from her cheeks down to her neck in the dim light. </p><p>“You’re blushing so hard right now, Shizuru.” I didn’t really mean to point it out like that, but that was a <em>me-level</em> blush. </p><p>“I suppose we should pause to let you enjoy it properly.” She murmured and it was true, I did enjoy it probably more than I should the few times it ever happened. It felt like a little deserved revenge most times, but not right now. Right now, it felt like an obstacle. “I must confess that this is the first I’ve ever had such a conversation.” That stunned me and a curling smile took her lips, the pink starting to fade from her face. “I would say that once it was obvious satisfaction had been achieved, most others assumed there was nothing more to be said.”</p><p>It was supposed to be a joke, I knew it was, but I couldn’t find it funny. I deflated into humiliation, worried that I was a total creep for wondering about it.</p><p>“Forget it.” I moved to get off her, but her arms were around me immediately, pressing us together, pulling me on top of her and I tensed up at the friction. My skin was instantly too awake.   </p><p>“Kanin-na, I did not mean to make you feel embarrassed.” </p><p>She was being real with me and I felt guilty, willing myself to relax. “I embarrassed you first.”</p><p>“Only because some the words I need to use, feel…” There was a whistle-like exhale. “Too explicit somehow. I can think of no delicate or clever way to phrase it.”</p><p>My eyebrow was up, and my mouth was running before I could stop it. “You’ve said explicit stuff to me before though.”</p><p>She gave me a look that was half-amused, half-insulted. Whether that was totally playful or not, was sometimes hard to tell with her.</p><p>“I would like to believe that even when I tease you, I am never <em>explicit </em>with you. Saying them to you in the throes of passion, so to speak, is a very different experience than this. Do you not think so?” I guess that was true, but I wouldn’t have thought saying stuff like that would be hard for her in any situation. The only thing I could think was that it must’ve felt improper or something to say it when we weren’t having sex. She had some strange lines about properness. “And before, I did only intend to poke fun at my own stumbling, not make light of the subject.”</p><p>“But it was too much.” I countered.  </p><p>A small frown came, and she watched me carefully. We were still only inches away from each other. “Tell me why you would think that.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t be asking about this stuff.” I was able to push out. “It’s…”</p><p>Her hand slid from my back to my neck beneath my ear, as a knowing smile came to her lips. “Weird, Natsuki?”</p><p>Of course, she realized I was gonna say that. “A little.”</p><p>“I do not think so. And as for your being the first with whom I’ve had an actual conversation on this topic, you are likely the only person I would trust enough to speak on it with.” Her saying that rattled and heated me up at the same time.</p><p>I’d never been able to talk about this with anyone else. “Me too.”</p><p>Her lack of surety became a familiar sparkle as her eyes grabbed mine. “It is an interesting experience to discuss this though, is it not?” Her fingertips moved and firmly followed my spine down to the swell of my lower back. It caused a shiver. “Intriguing even.” I nodded slowly at her. It was way more than just intriguing to me. “Have these sorts of questions been collecting in your mind for some time, I wonder?” </p><p>Her expression was all openness as she gazed up at me and I felt like I needed to be totally honest in response. “I’ve been thinking about it, yeah,” I admitted.</p><p>“What if I told you that tonight, you could ask me anything about this that you wished?” That was in no way what I’d thought she’d respond with, but now my neuroses were dancing around like wild idiots inside my chest. <em>Anything I wanted</em>?! Why would she offer that?</p><p>She deserved one last ‘out’ I thought. “You’d probably regret it.”</p><p>There was another soft laugh. “Perhaps, but I very much doubt that. In any case, I am willing.”</p><p>“Then,” Wetting my suddenly dry lips, I pushed my forearms beneath her shoulders to hold myself up and take some of my weight off her. As I stared down at her, I stunned myself by plowing back into the conversation headlong. “What were you trying to say before?”</p><p>I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she blinked. Her hand left my lower back and came up to squeeze her bottom lip with a thumb and forefinger. There was a flare of her nostrils, and she looked atypically bashful as she glanced up at me.</p><p>Her eyes flicked away briefly before she spoke. “There is something very specific that I’ve asked you for more than once.” It was too vague because she’d asked me for a lot of different things. I racked my brain trying to come up with anything that she’d requested multiple times. “You do not know what I mean, do you?”</p><p>I knew my own face was darkening now, I could feel it. “Don’t worry about it.” She touched my arm and I wasn’t sure why she wanted to get through it, but I was really goddamn curious despite the embarrassment.</p><p>“Do you wish to know?” I nodded, not wanting to lie. “In truth, it happens to some degree nearly every time you…use your mouth on me.” It wasn’t loud. It was almost a whisper, but the volume was irrelevant when those were the words being spoken.</p><p>“Probably not the first few times.” Fell out of my mouth, before I could stop it. I couldn’t tell if it was pure honesty or a gut reaction to something that I didn’t know what to do with.</p><p>“That is not the truth.” She corrected me with her eyes still shy. “In addition to being highly perceptive, Natsuki also takes direction exceptionally well.”</p><p>I squeezed my own shut for a minute, shaking my head lightly. “I wanted it to be okay.” I defended, peeling one open to peer down at her when I felt her thumb on my cheekbone.    </p><p>“<em>‘Okay’</em> would be an understatement at this point.”</p><p>Even if I wasn’t sure I agreed, my opinion was inept by comparison. But a wary sort of shock was bouncing in me because doing that was <em>not </em>something I considered myself good at. It wasn’t intuitive to me like more familiar things were. That wasn’t to say I didn’t like doing it or anything. I guess what I really liked was her reactions during it…I more than liked them if I was being honest. </p><p>“There is something I tend to ask you for while that is happening, specifically because it intensifies the rolling sensation that I described.” She was staring right into my eyes which shot open, as I realized what she meant.  “…I asked you for it tonight.” That confirmed it.</p><p>Nodding slowly, I could feel my blush deepening to such an aggressive level that I had to turn away, chewing at the inside of my lip to contain my reaction. It was that? There were times when she was super close and suddenly would ask me in this breathless, pleading voice to…suck on her. Jesus. I could hear it exactly in my head. When I’d asked her to tell me what to do the first time I ever tried, I hadn’t thought about what hearing her would be like, especially saying the stuff she had to. That damn voice…it already did things to me. Sometimes I teased her body on purpose, just to hear her ask me for something…anything. It was the only kinda shitty thing I couldn’t seem to stop myself from doing to her deliberately. I was also sure that unless she told me outright to stop, I wouldn’t.</p><p>God, I really needed to cut off these thoughts right now.   </p><p>Moving, I rested against her side instead because this totally uncalled for urge to push myself hard against her leg had bubbled up. The humiliating impulse to do that always seemed to rear its ugly head whenever serious stress and sex blended inside me. It wasn’t the same as wanting her to touch me. I was sure I didn’t want that, only because it wouldn’t go well. It would feel overwhelming immediately. Regardless, I hated that anything as animal as grinding on something or someone would jump into my mind like it was a remotely okay thing to do. I’d always ignored the thought. It was one that I’d had more than once in my life and always felt dirty about.</p><p>How did you ask for something like that anyway? <em>Hey, give me your leg for a minute?</em> It was such a goddamn weird thing to want.</p><p>I noticed she was studying me and it must’ve been clear that I lost myself for a minute. “Are you alright, Natsuki?”</p><p>I readjusted so that my head was far enough back on her shoulder that I could still see her face. “Yeah.” Focusing on the curiosity that was still floating around inside me, I continued. “What about that last kind? Have I done that to you too?” She reacted to the question with a different kind of nervousness.</p><p>From her expression, I was sure she didn’t want to talk about it, but before I could tell her she didn’t have to, she continued anyway. “It is not something that happens for me often and then only after I’ve already had at least one orgasm.” Seemed like a ‘no’.</p><p>“Why doesn’t it happen much?”</p><p>There was a sense I got that it was less nervousness and more that she was afraid to say the rest. I had no idea why. “I tend not to ask for it, but there are times where I want to have something…” Another one of those pauses where she pulled herself together. “Inside me right afterward.” That same shy look afterward that made my throat dry, and then she turned her eyes upward briefly before a slightly chagrinned smile broke across her lips. “How is it possible that you are not blushing when I am barely keeping another at bay?”</p><p>I had it way easier in this conversation than she did, and I knew it. “‘Cause I didn’t have to say it and it’s not about me.”</p><p>Tucking some hair behind her ear, her smile curled further as one of her eyebrows rose. She gave a look of mock warning, that I found sexy for no reason I understood. “Mm, an enviable position.”</p><p>“You told me to ask you,” I argued, running a hand over her smooth stomach, digesting what she’d said, trying to ignore the images it provoked. A blush was a definite if I couldn’t make my mind shut up.</p><p>“This is very true, I did.”</p><p>“Why would it matter if you have one first?”</p><p>She pinched her lip between her fingers again, before releasing it. “Because it makes me sensitive to that sort of stimulation, I suppose. Without already having had an orgasm, I do not feel it to the same extent and without the added sensitivity, it is still pleasurable but will never lead to anything more."</p><p>It was getting a little less difficult for her to say these things, but I must’ve done that to her then if that’s all it was. “I’ve done that to you before though! Touched you after.”</p><p>That flicker of anxiousness came back, and I still didn’t understand because it seemed to be about more than just having to say it now. “Yes, but for it to happen, I would need a bit more than what we’ve done, Natsuki.”</p><p>I tried to figure out what she was getting at, why she was being so careful with her words. There was only one thing that came to my head. “…more than these?” I lifted my hand and moved my fingers.</p><p>The expression on her face was beyond words. I was shocked I’d shocked her that much. I guess the way I’d made my point might’ve been a lot. In fairness, it wasn’t something I would’ve been able to ask when things were fresher between us.</p><p>“Have you considered using something more than those with me?”  Hadn’t she thought about it with me?</p><p>“You haven’t?” I just assumed she probably thought of it once or twice, actually assumed for her it was more than once or twice. It wasn’t like I’d constructed some elaborate thought process about it, but it had popped into my head before…a passing question.</p><p>“Well, I…”  She cleared her throat. “Yes, I have considered using a toy with you.” There was a silly little swell of pride and then this warmth in my chest because that flustered face was too adorable. “That is what we are discussing, correct?”</p><p>I really didn’t know what to say to that because what else was there? God was there some other option I’d never thought of besides me or a toy?!  “Is there some other thing?”</p><p>There was a soft breath of a laugh. “I suppose there isn’t.” Closing her eyes, she pressed a knuckle against her lips getting quiet. “I would not have guessed you’d considered that option before.”  She said finally, watching me almost cautiously. I wasn’t bothered because I probably would’ve said the same thing about myself, at least until I met her.  How she reacted…maybe she meant ‘more than what we’ve done’ in a totally different way? And I suddenly felt self-conscious. “Have you used such a thing?”</p><p>When did she think I’d ever? “You know I was only with a guy before you.”</p><p>“Yes, I do know that.”  She gave me the strangest sort of twisting smile, affectionate and amused, and what the hell was that about? “But that does not entirely preclude the possibility.”</p><p>“What?…oh. Oh. Jesus. Shizuru!!” My cheeks exploding in an angry red and I pushed at her shoulder, annoyed. She absolutely knew there was no way I ever put anything in his…God. I mean not <em>no </em>way. It wasn’t <em>that</em> crazy and if he told me he really…ugh, I needed to stop thinking about it right goddamn now. As if we would have been able to talk about something like that. “You could’ve just told me I’m wrong instead of shoving that in my head,” I mumbled, irritated by the chance that I’d have that stuck in mind.</p><p>“Kanin-na, Natsuki.” It was a light correction and she definitely wasn’t sorry. I glared at her a little, trying like hell not to think about it again. After a minute, she took a deep breath becoming serious again as she reached down to squeeze my hand, drawing it up to kiss my knuckles before letting it go. “You are not wrong though. A toy would certainly work.”</p><p>Any irritation dropped right out of me with those nervous words. “Yeah?”</p><p>“It is not absolutely necessary if you did not want to. The ‘how’ over a ‘what’ is more important. It is really an attitude of assertiveness and…” She snuck a quick look at me, and I wasn’t sure what she was searching for, but my skin was getting warm. “Physical forcefulness that allows for it to happen. It is not a thing that I want or have asked for often or would desire from anyone who could not feel confident in embracing it. The confidence is so much a part of it, but…I will admit that I do crave it from time-to-time.”</p><p>I was straining not to react to the near prose-like reveal that she liked to be, what probably any other person would have called ‘fucked’, every now and then, apparently after having an orgasm…that it made her have some sort of mysterious third type of orgasm I’d never seen her have. Immediately, it brought back thoughts of something Nao had said to me at her apartment right before I confessed to Shizuru. It was memorable enough to stick with me. She said that I didn’t ‘fuck’. It was probably true per Nao’s definition, but being opposed to the ‘Nao’ version of anything and being opposed to something at all were pretty much never the same thing.</p><p>Shizuru must’ve thought there was at least a chance I could give that to her how she wanted if she was mentioning it. Doing that to her, I was shutting my eyes to picture it more fully than I normally would before I even realized. If I knew she wanted me to be rougher with her…but I’d never been rough with anyone. I mean I’d been less than gentle before with Tate, but that was a much more mutual thing and I didn’t want to keep thinking about him right now. He was the only thing I had to draw on, so it was hard not to sometimes. Besides being less than gentle with a girl, for whatever reason, it struck me as a totally different world.</p><p>God, what would it feel like to do that to her with my fingers or with something else? My brain liked the something else apparently because that’s where it went. A strap-on had only been an abstraction before this. It was something I rightly or wrongly associated with two women together, that being the only reason it even entered my head. It was just a passing thought more than anything else…about whether she’d eventually ask me about it. She’d never said anything until now and that was my assuming, not her mentioning it. Suddenly, my mind grabbed onto the idea, strapped it to my body, and buried it inside her and the idea was miniature fires springing up under my skin. I could feel the goosebumps forming and was completely shocked at myself for yet again thinking something that graphic. More at the sharp squeeze it caused in my stomach.  </p><p>“Is that unappealing to you, Natsuki?” She asked softly, taking me out of my guilt with her worry just in time to save me from another raging blush. I understood her nervousness now, but that was about as far from the truth as you could possibly be.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Resisting how much I wanted to kiss was impossible. My lips were on hers as soon as I could reach them, and my eyes closed again at the sweet little noise she made. I was suddenly wishing my body felt different right now, wasn’t being a pain in the ass tonight. The deliberate way she was sliding her mouth against mine, always such deliberate kisses, stroking my lips with hers as her arms passed around my neck; it was only making it worse because it mixed right into what it was thinking before. Now in my mind, she was kissing me exactly like this, nibbling my lip as she did sometimes with her legs wrapped around me. What would she sound like? Would she say anything to me? Ask me for anything? …could I make her? Electric sparks nipped at my already spastic nerve endings. My head and body both throbbed and I realized that I was gripping her side way too tightly. I loosened my hold, hoping to god she didn’t have the slightest clue what I’d been considering. How could she? But the paranoia was creeping right in any way.</p><p>When she drew back, she still looked a little unsure. It kicked me into saying what I needed to dispel any sense that I was put off.</p><p>“Next time you want that, tell me.” My voice was a pile of sand.</p><p>“Alright.” She agreed, barely above a shaky whisper, very obviously feeling some kinda way about it too. A harsh swallow made her neck bob. That momentary lack of self-possession only made me that much hotter.</p><p>I wanted to touch her again so badly, but she’d given me a free pass tonight with my questions and I didn’t wanna lose it. Besides, I didn’t know if I could stand what that would do to me. How turned on I was already, that I could feel my heartbeat between my legs…I didn’t know what to do about that with my physical over-sensitivity raging tonight. And the insanely powerful impulse to push against her thigh came rushing back in on me. I was really close to just doing it, everything else be damned because the ache was driving me crazy. If I stayed near her one more second…a spike of fear shot up my spine and stopped me cold. What the hell would she think of me if I did that? What the hell would <em>I</em> think of me? I’d gone years and years without indulging that stupid urge and why it was so strong at the moment, I didn’t know.</p><p>It took an annoying amount of self-discipline to get off her completely, this time lying beside her on my stomach, so if I pushed into anything it would only be the mattress. I pulled my pillow under my chest and rested on it while I turned my head to look at her, trying not to give any attention to the parts of me that simply wouldn’t shut up.    </p><p>Reluctantly, I forced my brain onto a new question. “Have you had all three kinds in one night?”</p><p>Eyes unblinking, she rested her hands over the sheets covering her stomach. “I have not.” She then gave me a grin, which along with her tone, made what followed sound like a tease-y little challenge. “Three of any kind in a single evening, though as you’re aware can happen, is not routine for me.”</p><p>“Okay. How would I make you do that then?” I said thinking maybe that’s what she was going for, but it was clear from her reaction that she hadn’t thought I’d say anything even remotely close to that.  It was possible my distracted mind was adding its own inflections.</p><p>“It is not something I’ve considered.” She almost whispered, looking I don’t even know…worried? Great. I’d gone too far.</p><p>In any case, it was obvious she didn’t have a clue what to do with me yet again, which was fair because I didn’t really have a clue what to do with me either. I was torturing myself as much as her with all of this. My next question was one I was a little more hesitant to ask because it hit too close to home, but maybe I was ready to bring myself into this now. Maybe it would tamp down some of the ridiculous tingling running rampant through my body.  </p><p>“Have you…uh…ever not been able to?”</p><p>“…I have not experienced that, no.” The answer was uncertain as she turned her head toward me, and I didn’t want her to have any guilt over something that I was happy she didn’t have to deal with. “Natsuki, you should understand that arriving in the proper headspace for such things or arriving there physically, I do not find those challenging where I know many other women do. Admittedly there have been instances where it was not as satisfying, but I realize that is not the same.” She stopped again and our eyes locked. I knew she was including or wholly referring to me with that. “Also,” There was that nervousness again and this time it was accompanied by a blankness. I knew that meant it was bad enough she was trying to hide. “It may be worth mentioning that there were several times where I was the one responsible for my own pleasure, in which case not being able to is...a non-issue.”</p><p>I didn’t know how to feel about that or if I even understood what she was driving at. I hoped I didn’t. “They didn’t touch you back?”</p><p>It took her a while to answer, and when she did her tone was consciously tempered. “Not always, no.” </p><p>“Why the hell not?” I snapped back automatically. I hated to hear her hide like that. How had that happened often enough for her to mention?</p><p>“Kanin-na.  It is not important, and I did not mean for that to upset you. I only meant that being able to orgasm under the power of another person can be more difficult.” I didn’t like this whole line of conversation. I felt unsettled and a little angry at whoever these girls were. But maybe she didn’t wanna be touched back…like me tonight. God, maybe I was a big goddamn hypocrite. It didn’t seem remotely the same though.</p><p>“You don’t want to talk about it.” I acknowledged when I saw her expression.  </p><p>“I do not if that is alright.” I could hardly begrudge her that when she’d told me as much as she already had. “Is there still some self-consciousness for you over tonight, I wonder?”</p><p>I was less worried about it and more embarrassed over the whole thing. The charge between us dipped as I thought it over, which helped with the tingle in my skin. I did owe her some truth. “I just feel stupid about it. I don’t know why it’s happening.”</p><p>“You have nothing at all to feel stupid over and as much as I love what you did to me tonight, my main worry is that I don’t wish to leave you,” She was super careful in choosing what she said next and waiting for it was agony. “unnecessarily uncomfortable.” Is what she settled on.</p><p><em>Unnecessarily uncomfortable</em>. It was such a <em>her</em> way to say it.</p><p>“Don’t worry about that,” I murmured into the pillow.  If it was between not being able to touch her when I wanted to or being uncomfortable in a way I’d been uncomfortable a hundred times before, I would make the same choice I did tonight every single time.  </p><p>“Can I ask how they feel for you? Your own orgasms?”</p><p>That wasn’t too terrible a question and I thought I could try to answer. “I guess like a harsher combination of the first and third one you described.” That was about the best I could do. I had no frame of reference for whatever those rolling ones she talked about were. “They’re a lot.”</p><p>“But…you do enjoy them?” She was concerned, and I knew I needed to force myself to say more about it than I normally would.</p><p>I must’ve seemed like I didn’t enjoy them sometimes for her to even ask me that. I guess it made sense because I probably would’ve asked me the same thing if I were her. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy them, it was more that the few minutes before and first split-second of an orgasm was like a side stitch but in my abs and thighs. It was probably all the tensing and I knew better than to voice that though, so I skipped over it and tried to describe what I liked instead.</p><p>It was hard to put words. I’d never tried, not even in my own head. “There’s this fluttering thing right after for a couple of seconds. That part feels really good to me.”</p><p>She was visibly relieved, but still cautious and trepidatious in continuing. “Can I also ask what is it that is different when you cannot or when it is difficult? Do you know?”</p><p>That was also not impossible to say, but I wasn’t really sure it was a good idea to talk about because when I’d tried to tell him this, my lack of tact and general flustered-ness was an obstacle. I’d hurt his feelings, and I decided to be a lot more careful with my words this time around. It meant I had to really think about my answer…and I waited until I could find a place to start.</p><p>“It happened to me with him too.” I didn’t know if it was okay to mention Tate, but she should understand that it wasn’t her or him. It was me. There was no obvious concern on Shizuru’s face, which dulled the awkwardness a little. “And it’s never anything you do.” A small smile came at my words, and I realized this had affected her at least to some degree. Jesus…of course, it had. “It’s me. I don’t know. Most of the time it’s fine, sometimes it’s hard to get there, but everything still feels good. Other times, it feels like too much before I can get anywhere. Every little thing is too strong and I can’t relax. It’s like I’m just wound up in the wrong ways.” I felt frustrated, stumbling over my explanation. “That sounds so stupid.”</p><p>She touched me soothingly, a gentle rub on my shoulder. “It does not. I promise.” </p><p>“I tried to explain this once before, and it didn’t go well.”</p><p>“Why did it not go well?” There was nothing but genuine interest, which I could sympathize with.</p><p>“Probably because I said being touched sometimes feels like twenty people screaming in my face,” I admitted, deliberately averting my gaze and holding my breath for her reaction. I hoped she understood that I was telling her this in case I screwed up my description. It was a warning label.  </p><p>“If I felt that way, I would certainly not want to be touched either. However, I can see where that particular description might be difficult to hear.” She said it lightly, but I didn’t know how she felt beneath that.</p><p>“Is it difficult for <em>you </em>to hear, Shizuru?” That’s what I really wanted to know.</p><p>There was a smile on her face, but it was mostly sad instead of happy. “Not in the way you might think.”</p><p>I needed more than that. “Then how?”      </p><p>“Only in so far as I can tell how much this stays with you and that you seem to believe something such as that could make you any less desirable or attractive to me. That is most definitely not the case.” And that was way too honest. It grabbed a serious insecurity and simply tossed it out for both of us to gawk at. I wasn’t expecting it and froze up over my own humiliating transparency. She moved closer to me sensing it, her legs brushing mine, her soft hand massaging the small of my back, her warm eyes boring into me. “But I do worry that the degree to which you focus on it,” She paused, breathing inaudibly.   </p><p>“What?” I asked nervously, trying to focus on her thumb kneading my suddenly rock-hard muscles.  </p><p>“Is there not a possibility that it exacerbates the issue?” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything and we watched each other. She didn’t press me for anything more and withdrew slowly, returning to her back but a bit closer to me.</p><p>“I don’t know,” I said finally, but of course it was possible. It made sense even, but that didn’t mean I had any idea what to do about it.   </p><p>“Were you ever able to,” There was another pause as she blinked slowly, before rolling her gaze back toward me. “Take care of this on your own? When it transpired before?”</p><p>“No.” Did <em>she</em> do that? Even with us together? “Do you do that still?”</p><p>“I do.”  She wet her lips before her eyes tipped up. “Being with you though and what I do on my own, they bear no connection to one another in my mind.” There was a glance in my direction. “I hope that it does not upset you.”</p><p>“It doesn’t.” I didn’t care and I didn’t see how it was my business really if she wanted to do that when she was by herself. Reflectively, I did feel something about it, but it was uncomfortably closer to jealousy for my own sake. She must’ve really been into it if she still wanted to. “You like it.”</p><p>Drawing one of her legs up, she kept it bent beneath the sheets as she rubbed delicately at the skin of her chest with her fingertips. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, only that she was slightly hesitant again. “I am aware it is not everyone’s experience, but I find it calming and yes, I do very much enjoy it. I feel connected to myself in those moments. Strange as it may sound, it is a comfort.” </p><p>I sighed, completely unable to relate to any of that. “It’s probably the least calming thing in the world to me.”</p><p>Her head turned again, so she was fully looking at me. “It is not uncommon Natsuki. Not everyone enjoys such things.”</p><p>I wasn’t sure if I disliked it or if I just was goddamn terrible at it, but I didn’t say that. Either way it pretty much never did anything for me. Instead, I shook my head, poking at the pillow and asking her yet another thing I’d never been able to ask anyone else. “How long have you done it for?”</p><p>Eyebrows drew together and she exhaled lightly while I eyed her sidelong. Her palm spread and flattened over the top of her sternum, resting below her neck. Long, delicate fingers extended distractingly over the tops of her breasts. The sheet was just barely covering her, which helped nothing.  </p><p>“I was newly a teenager when I became curious enough to truly try. Is that what you were asking?” Nodding, I thought over what she’d asked and realized I had no reaction to her answer because it was pretty much exactly what I expected.  When she glanced at me though, I knew that she had understood something…that I wouldn’t have thrown out that question if I didn’t have some feelings about it. “Can I ask how old you were?”</p><p>“Way older than you.” I muttered, not able to meet her eyes as a wave of shame blindsided me, like the admission instantly solidified into an unwanted allegory for every trouble I’d ever had with sex. “Twenty-one or twenty-two maybe.”</p><p>Where I dreaded a potential quip, there was none, only another gentle inquiry. “Was there anything that prompted your attempts?” </p><p>“I took this course in college on Human Sexuality. Some of the stuff we went over made me think I should.” It was the truth. I never had any real interest in it outside of that. I didn’t attempt it again until it occurred to me as a possible weapon against the irritating spurts of arousal that kept randomly pestering the crap out of me over the past few years. “I tried a couple of times after that too.” It still sucked those times too but worked occasionally as a release valve. “I even tried a vibrator once, so I guess I have used a toy…on myself, I mean.” So dumb, Jesus.</p><p>She didn’t laugh though, only glanced my way, curiosity in her eyes. “Was that at all helpful?”</p><p>In that, I had an orgasm which relieved the feeling of wanting to rip my skin off, yes. In that I enjoyed it? No. “I still didn’t like it much. Do you ever use one?”</p><p>The somewhat embarrassed curl of her beautiful lips and the openness in her eyes distracted me. “I do occasionally use the one I have. More often than not though, I do prefer my own hands.”</p><p>Maybe it was that openness, but the surrealness of this moment slapped me in the face, that I was lying naked in bed with a woman who I’d somehow fallen in love with a full year ago, that I was crazy attracted to, talking about masturbation and vibrators. It was the least me thing I could imagine.</p><p>“You probably figured it out quick,” I said feeling silly for my thoughts.</p><p>A soft laugh, her real laugh tumbled out and over me. My scalp pinched just like it had the first time I’d ever heard it. “Not at all. There was the usual clumsiness and fear to start.”</p><p>That totally surprised me. “Fear? Why?”</p><p>“Those moments right before are intimidating when you do not yet know what will follow, do you not think so? At first, it was difficult to resist stopping myself.”</p><p>I wouldn’t have thought she ever felt that way, but I did when I had sex of any kind actually. Even though it was easier now, it was still difficult for me to let go. Most of the time having an orgasm was like being shoved off the edge of a cliff that I was fighting tooth and nail to stay on. She was better at shoving me off than anyone else, could do it so sneakily that I didn’t sense it coming, but it was still a shove, still caused a shot of momentary panic.</p><p>My mind was running. Was it just her experience? Her nature, that made it different for her now? I couldn’t stop wondering how she learned to soak in her orgasms. If I could see what she did then maybe...if she could show me, tell me what she was feeling or doing while she…and that was a crude thought. I was full of them tonight apparently.</p><p>“Natsuki…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Is there something that you are not saying right now?” There was such earnestness in her eyes when she asked that and there was no way.  </p><p>I shoved my face into the pillow as a blush burst across my neck and cheeks. It almost hurt with how powerful it came on. “No.”</p><p>“This would say otherwise, I believe.” She touched my now burning ear and it ramped up the heat. </p><p>Lifting my head, I shot her a look. “Shizuru, I can’t. This one is way too much.” I buried my face back in the fabric trying to will the color away.</p><p>She was leaning over me, planting kisses on my shoulder, my back, moving my hair to kiss the base of my neck, drawing my eyes closed, before she whispered, “Is that not for me to judge though? Please,” Another few kisses. “Tell me?”</p><p>Scrunching up my face, I lifted my body up on my forearms, just enough to shove out the words, staring straight into the pillowcase. “Show me how. Not tonight.”</p><p>I could tell instantly that I’d knocked her around again by the way her body startled against me. It made me tighten up against the awkwardness. After a moment though, I felt more of her weight on me, her breasts pressing into my back as her lips dragged way too sweetly across the shell of my ear. It was melting me completely and I flopped down, simmering in my slow fading embarrassment. Why would she be so gentle with me after I’d just said something so completely goddamn wrong to her?  </p><p>My heart sped up a little when she laid down half on top of my back, an arm draping across my shoulder and upper arm, hand dangling over my flexed elbow. She planted a kiss on the back of my head before resting her nose there.</p><p>“If you believe that I could be of aid, then I will certainly give it my best.” It was murmured softly into my hair as she settled down onto me.</p><p>As she held me like that, a human weighted blanket…the sound of the heavy rain and her breathing began to mix again…rapid taps and slow rushing air. The heaviness of her on me was weirdly comforting. The lack of motion and steady, unmoving press of her skin calmed my own and made it easier to mute the thoughts crowding my head.</p><p>“Am I crushing you at all?” It was whispered behind my ear.</p><p>“No, I like it,” I murmured into the pillowcase. I closed my eyes to listen to her and the storm.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Shizuru</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was one of the most unexpected conversations I’d ever had with another person in my life.  Natsuki and I had spoken about many topics in our time together, but this was something wholly new between us. Sex, especially our respective experiences of it, was not a subject I thought she would ever bring up. It was especially fascinating to me that she’d volunteer it tonight, considering what happened. I would’ve predicted the opposite effect. It felt like a new layer of trust between us and that was the reason I’d decided to make it clear that this conversation was hers to dive as deep into as she wished.   </p><p>In the past year, there were more and more moments where our lives together felt exactly that to me… a life…together. The apprehensive excitement, dizzying cocktail of individual insecurities, and thought-robbing sexual tension we’d felt initially were slowly fading into comfort with each other’s presence. Some of those things took considerably more time to dull than others; some I expected would never dull completely.  It was uncharted for me, a romance which felt at all resilient, lasting, justified…real. More novel was my growing willingness to accept that such a thing could be allowed to me.</p><p>Truthfully there had only been one challenging instance thus far where I doubted not myself (those were much more numerable yet briefer), but whether we could work. Months back, we ended up in something of a quarrel about her secretiveness and habit of late-night disappearances. I had thought for a moment that she would shut me out completely, but it had ended in her revealing the room where she kept everything related to HiME, told me the story surrounding it, a tapestry that wove through so many aspects of her life. It was an absolute shock and she’d stunned me further by asking for help to sort and tuck away her research materials a week after that. At the same time, we’d silently dismantled and stored the furniture that remained in what I’d discovered was her mother’s former bedroom. I knew now that much, if not all her upset and distance during our first autumn and winter together, had to do with the torment she felt over the aftermath of the project, perhaps some sense of mourning.</p><p>Now that it was out in the open though and we’d had time to process it, these past months since…I would call what had emerged inside me a blossoming faith in the solidity of us, perhaps a deeper sense of intimacy as cliché as it sounded. The secrets that cut us the deepest, made us hide, on the scant occasions either of us needed to, we could find a point of understanding without the emotionally devastating weight of our initial reveals. None of that was to say it was easy for either of us. Neither she nor I found exposure easy, but a few words or none at all could say much more than ever before because we were known to each other in a way we had not been. Though moments where her thoughts carried her away from not just me but everything around her continued to happen after our conversation, I appreciated from experience why.</p><p>Letting go of physical things was not the same as letting go of what was felt over them. I could also appreciate that before she showed me that room, she would have chosen not to be around me when she felt distressed, would have sought seclusion.  </p><p>Her telling me she wished to touch me without reciprocation, on the rare occasions it occurred since, did concern me to some degree of course. That it came along with us growing closer, would have confused me if it had not been so obviously related to internalized agitation. It took me some time to sus out what true anxiety looked like for her, versus something more transient like irritation. I’d come to believe that many of the things I thought were a momentary strain, simple emotions, in fact, ran deeper, were perhaps even attached to something underlying and chronic.  When stress fully seized her, which was not often, when I was able to see it for what it was, it was more in her body than face. It was palpable, tremulous energy radiating from her very skin. As intense as being near her in those moments could be, I was relieved that more and more she allowed me to see her caught in these episodes. Furthermore, that she was willing to engage with me during them, sexually or otherwise, despite the challenges presented…that she seemed to derive some small measure of relief from my presence…it was such a comfort.  What made these bouts difficult for me personally, was that I struggled to understand what she needed from me in these moments. It did lend a feeling of unhelpfulness at times, but that was not her fault.  </p><p>I’d found myself somehow more in love with her now than before. How very much in love with her body I was, had remained as strong as it was at the beginning, though there was new ease with the idea of being in love with both her and her body at the same time. My guilt over it remained to some extent…as though my adoration of her physically were fundamentally debasing or objectifying, but it was notably lessened. Conversely, my devotion to her sensual pleasure had been somewhat therapeutic in that respect. Though I knew it was flawed logic, I thought if I could find a way to use my own aggressively present sex drive to enhance hers, it would mean something.  </p><p>I’d pieced together she believed there were physical or mental abnormalities in herself sexually, which I could see no evidence of. It seemed to be the origin of her unease. What exactly she saw as aberrant, was difficult to pinpoint and so it was a tough belief to chip away at. It reminded me in some respects of my own ingrained thoughts about my love of women in its relative immunity to logic and experience. As such, it felt unfair for me to fault her at all for the way she clung to it. After all, we both had a stubbornness we held as dear as virtue. The degree of openness she displayed in talks like this one, it was really all I could ask for, and all I could offer her back as far as my own insecurities were concerned. Yet there was a growing nervous interest she exuded in moments of pleasure between us whenever something even slightly different was introduced that absolutely captivated me.  </p><p>The first rumbles of thunder took my attention as the windows flashed a deep blue-gray moments later. I could not help but listen for a moment to the intense rainstorm outside. I did not know how long I’d been laying like this…draped over her and lost to my thoughts. She was breathing steadily, her body soft beneath me and had made no attempts to move at all, seemed peaceful, and contented even. I was concerned my weight and warmth would irritate her oversensitive skin, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. The smooth expanse of her back against my chest, it was something I was familiar with from having held her to me, both of us sitting up or standing. I could not recall ever having laid myself prone atop her before though. I let myself imagine what it would feel like to be fully over her, fitting the length of our bodies together like this, pressing as many kisses as I dared to her neck and upper back…feeling her perfect backside against me as I did so. It was against my hip now, flexing occasionally as she shifted. I could not help the thought that was I to be completely atop her, it would not be my hip she was flexing against.   </p><p>“Has Natsuki asked all the questions she wished to?” I murmured lightly into her hair, to distract myself from such a thought, pleasant as it was.   </p><p>“Yeah.” She admitted. “What about you?” The follow-up was unexpected...that she was even offering. </p><p>As another rumble echoed, a light scratching started at the door. I knew it was Duran growing fearful as a loud crack echoed outside. I moved away to lay on my back beside her, knowing she would want to rise to let him in. She did a moment later, walking naked across the room and I snuck a peek or two at her…letting my eyes fall to where my mind had been moments ago. She truly did have the most adorably round, well-muscled butt that I had ever seen. In addition to my previous musings, I often had the absurd and inexplicable urge to nibble or pinch or simply lay my hands on it. Though I would never tell her so when she was particularly fresh, the thought of a light slap came and in stranger moments still, the idea of pressing my lips there popped unwelcome into my mind. I could not imagine any of those would be well received, but I was all too aware that I had quite the preoccupation with it. The most I’d yet allowed myself was a squeezing hold, but goodness was it a near-constant temptation. Perhaps one day we’d have that conversation.</p><p>Her dog scrambled inside as soon as the door opened and leaped onto the mattress, shaking like a leaf, hunched up, teeth barely visible behind a grimace as another peal of thunder sounded and the room lit up. Hopping back into bed, she laid on her back this time. He was against the side of her that was farthest from me in an instant. He would follow me about the house, or find me when I was feeling low, or lie against me when he felt calm, but there was only one person he ever wished to be beside when he was frightened. Duran really was very much her child.</p><p>She rolled her eyes but could not contain her smile as she basically swaddled him with the corner of the comforter. I felt badly, scared as he was, even if he suffered from a deficit of bravery. Only his small head exposed, his breaths were whines and whimpers…a trembling lump that she hummed at softly, as she ran a soothing finger along his snout. I knew she did not realize her cooing turned melodic, hooking onto a tune because she would have stopped herself if she had. It was heart-melting honestly, his squinty imploring gaze and the tips of her fingers disappearing in orange fur. Watching them in moments like this was an interesting experience, seeing such maternal behavior, how unexpectedly natural it looked on her.</p><p>I had to actively block my mind from imagining her with an actual infant each time, running a gentle hand over the forehead of a small child whose dark hair had fallen in front of his face. It was always and inexplicably a boy, the mental picture that arose and I banished it yet again, chastising myself. I’d found myself thinking on the subject of children all too frequently as of late. My thirty-fifth birthday was looming nearer and nearer. Progressing through this decade of my life had been unexpectedly difficult and I did not much enjoy the prospect of hitting the midway mark. That was neither here nor there at the moment, and certainly less enjoyable than other paths my mind could take.  </p><p>“Would you consider exposing Duran-chan to such risqué conversation, if I did have questions?” My inquiries were likely to be less emotionally charged than hers I thought, but perhaps that was not a bad thing for either of us.</p><p>“He’d put up with it to stay.” She squeezed him reassuringly and I smiled at them both.  </p><p>I considered what I might ask. More than anything, I wondered about those things that she chose for herself which, decorations she adorned herself with or things she enjoyed that held some possible relation to her sense of erotism. If we were speaking so openly, those were the things I wanted to ask about lest another opportunity such as this not present itself. I thought it would be more natural to start with those things than outright asking her to describe to me what captured her mind or body sexually…her undisclosed wants.</p><p>“There is one that I’ve had since our first time”</p><p>That seemed to make her more anxious, and one of her hands shoved behind her head while the other rested on her shoulder. “What is it?”</p><p>Gathering myself, I voiced a thing that tossed itself around my mind nearly every time I saw her topless. “Your nipple piercings.”</p><p>I had her wary attention immediately. “What about them?”</p><p>“It is more curiosity regarding how it feels. Is it very different to be touched while having them?”</p><p>“Not very, but it’s different, sure.” She acknowledged, and I wondered if she’d provide additional detail unprompted. “It’s not that I didn’t feel it before. I mean they’ve always been...sensitive, I guess. It’s just stronger now. Or I notice it more, I don’t know.” Her sensitivity in this respect was something I very much appreciated and that it was not due entirely to the piercings, I had suspected already. My own were not immune to sensation but provided the right sort of attention, hers provoked an impressive response. “I didn’t get them for that though. I got them because I like how they look.” </p><p>That was unsurprising, though I had wondered given her responsiveness, if there was some small stitch of allure attached to the piercings’ purported enhancement of sensual pleasure. It would not have been in keeping with what I knew of her, but with Natsuki that did not necessarily mean it was untrue. She had a knack for catching me off guard.</p><p>“They <em>are</em> quite attractive on you, Natsuki.” I often had difficulties in preventing myself from staring at them obscenely whenever they were on display, in fact. “Did Nao-han tease you much over them, I wonder?”</p><p>She scoffed violently and patted the panicked dog’s head guiltily. “Hell would freeze over before I told Nao.”</p><p>“Do none of your friends know you have them?”</p><p>“No.” That was rather noteworthy to me, that she’d kept it a secret…made me wonder if they were aware of the extent of her tattoos either. “I wouldn’t tell them something like that.”</p><p>There was a second question about them that had entered my mind a few months back and like some annoyingly persistent insect had been relentlessly buzzing around since. “The particular style that you wear, is it important to the aesthetic you were after?”</p><p>“The barbells?” I nodded. <em>Barbells</em>. I’d forgotten that was what they were called and had only seen them on their own once while she was cleaning her body jewelry. “No. You want me to take them out more?”</p><p>Her inflection told me that there was disappointment for her in that, but it was undue. That was not where I was steering this.</p><p>“I do not unless that is what you want.” I knew that she preferred to leave them in general, which did not bother me in the least. That she would think I meant that though, would indicate that I was about to query her on something which would surprise her. A distinct possibility, that this might come off as an off-color question entered my mind, however, I’d volunteered the topic already. It was entirely selfish as a question, but I could think of no other time when I might have the chance. “I’ve found myself wondering more than once now if you’ve ever worn rings instead?”</p><p>Her rapidly furrowing brow worried me as she poked at the bedsheet. “Do you wanna see them with rings?”</p><p>“Would it be indecent to you if I said ‘yes’?” I spoke quietly, feeling self-conscious, but wondering how she might feel about my expressing an attraction to the possibility.   </p><p>Air puffed from her nose as she smirked at me, a touch of unease there. “You basically just did, but it’s not <em>‘indecent’</em>.” Her lips flattened, as she scraped teeth across her bottom one before it jumped from their grip. “I didn’t expect it though.”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t you expect it?”</p><p>“I didn’t think you thought much about them.” Was her response, which was astonishing to me.  </p><p>“With the amount of time I routinely devote to them, I would’ve hoped my feelings were more apparent.” Though the sadness in my tone was all playacting, the words were absolutely true.</p><p>“I meant the piercings, not my nip-ugh…” As she covered her face with her hands, it erupted into only the third blush of the evening, which was utterly remarkable considering our discussion. “You’re getting me back right now.” She said, shaking her head as if it would clear the blood from her cheeks.  </p><p>“I won’t say it isn’t enjoyable to see that precious blush that you’ve been admirably rationing me on tonight, but I was being honest. The idea of what they might look like with some delicate rings is one I embarrassingly cannot seem to banish from my mind.”  She watched me silently and it was difficult to know what she felt. My discomfort tumbled me into a tease. “And for the sake of clarity, I’m quite taken with both your piercings <em>and</em> your nipples, Natsuki.” Instead of leaving, the color made her ears again blaze sweetly.</p><p>“Idiot.” The smile that took my lips was impossible to contain. </p><p>Another thing that I had struggled over was attempting to unravel her interest in lingerie. How deep it ran, what its focus was, whether it was mostly artistic or not. I only had the look in her eyes when she saw some of mine or the depth of her ever-expanding personal collection to judge by. “I do have some questions regarding your appreciation of lingerie as well if you’re willing?”</p><p>There was a somewhat distrustful look thrown my way. “Why that?”</p><p>“It is a difficult thing for me to decipher.” She looked completely confused as I considered where the best place to start would be. “Can I ask if you enjoy it more when it is on your person, or on another?”</p><p>“I don’t know, Shizuru.” Was her initial answer again, which was somewhat disappointing.  Shaking her head lightly at herself, she unexpectedly added, “How it feels on me, how it looks on you.”</p><p>The latter was the more relatable for me and I wondered whether it would bring her comfort to know that. I decided to say so.</p><p>“I can understand that certainly.”</p><p>There were no words I could use to adequately describe what it was like the first time I ever glanced over on a morning I’d stayed the night, to see her sitting at her vanity in nothing but those items. It was like a moving photo etched permanently into the surface of my brain. Her in a lacy black push-up bra and matching nothings of underwear...subtly muscled legs crossed at the thigh as she carefully did her makeup. It still upset my self-control terribly to think on.</p><p>“You do have the most wonderful taste as far as such things are concerned. And the sight of you in it,”</p><p>There was a definite flash of discomfort from her again. “That’s not the reason I buy what I do.”</p><p>“I realize. Do you truly mind my attention?”</p><p>A brief sidelong glance was sent my way and a light shrug. “It’s not like you’re a creep about it or anything.”</p><p>“I’m pleased you think so.” I gave her exactly the look she deserved for that, though there was little resoluteness behind it. Nonetheless, she looked sufficiently hangdog.</p><p>“And I look at you in yours, Shizuru.” It seemed to be volunteered as some mixture of justification and atonement. It was nicer to hear, certainly.</p><p>“I will admit that the only problem is some small part of me wishes I still held the illusion you were wearing more subdued pieces beneath your scrubs or work clothes.” It would make resisting the thoroughly unprofessional temptations her presence sometimes evoked when she sauntered into my office for a visit, less difficult. </p><p>Not that I would ever complain about such a thing. She always brightened my day even if the brightening was bought with lost scraps of composure. She was the only woman I’d ever met who exclusively wore intricate and evocative undergarments. I questioned if it was selections made on purpose initially, something born from the excitement of a new relationship starting because it was something I was doing. Later, I realized it was not that, but simply that she would not adorn herself with anything else. Near as I could tell, she did not even own anything remotely sensible save her athletic wear, which admittedly had their own appeal, especially where her backside was concerned.</p><p>“Says the woman who wore those damn stockings to work two times.”</p><p>I could not contain the entranced smile that took my lips. They were among the rarer items I had in my wardrobe and I reserved them for times when a bit of extra confidence was needed. They could, especially when paired with one of my favorite skirts, create for me a level of automatic self-assurance.</p><p>“I’m flattered you remember them.”</p><p>“The ones with the seam right up the back? That I found out needed a garter belt when I had to watch you put them on the second time, I saw them? Yeah, I remember those.” The answer and the sarcastic, slightly reprimanding tone stunned me a bit. Though I realized by the second time, she was truly looking, the depth of their effect was hitherto unknown to me. </p><p>I was at a loss for some witty reply. “They do make a nice finishing touch to an outfit now and then.”</p><p>“No one else I know owns anything like what I have. At least that know of.” She remarked, voice low and steady, but without any judgment. “Why’d you decide to buy them?”</p><p>It was true, that not all that many people I’d met had such items, but a garter belt and stockings were also not so terribly unusual a thing. However, the truth was that I probably would not have owned them myself were it not for the lingerie shop I worked at when I was younger. There was no aversion in me to telling her that.</p><p>“I would say it is the influence of a job I had in my early twenties while I was beginning medical school. I worked at a small lingerie boutique in a nearby town. Before my employment there, I do not think I grasped how lovely even the more exotic types of lingerie could be. I suppose that I imagined them as most do, a sort of fantasy costume play, mostly meant to entice but without any substance.” </p><p>Well-made pieces and the breadth of options available were a new experience to me. I would not say that it drew me in much, but some of the prettier garments that came through the shop piqued my interest. When they did, I would occasionally purchase something and so began my seeking nicer versions of such clothing than I otherwise would have. It was not my main motivation in working there, to purchase fancy lingerie on an unimpressive discount. My main motivation was less pure as was often the case during that portion of my life. The clientele regrettably turned out to be far more skewed toward middle-aged heterosexual married women than I would’ve hoped, though some were inarguably attractive. It did not prevent me from subtly flirting, more out of curiosity for their response than anything else. A game I played with myself emerged, whether I could or could not correctly predict which of them would react. The manager of the shop had a game of her own. She was an incurable gossip and seemed wholly convinced that a high proportion of these purchases were in preparation for extramarital rendezvous. It passed the time between customers away, to listen to her spin her sordid yarns about the likely fictional, but impressively lascivious adventures of these ladies while I feigned shock here and there. On occasion, a professor or student I knew would wander in as well, which was always interesting.</p><p>“You worked in a lingerie boutique.” Her tell-tale smirk and the statement-question itself begged for yet another disapproving expression. The only reaction was the arch of her eyebrow, while her eyes dripped with accusation and her lips curled further. Perhaps she understood my baser tendencies better than I would’ve liked.</p><p>I ‘tsked’ her and then pretended as though it had not occurred. “I did, yes. Do you not have two or three garter belts yourself?”</p><p>She tipped her head in acknowledgment. Natsuki’s collection was in another league…the collection of a connoisseur really. It was astonishing to me both in its quality and variety. It was not the size of it, although she did have quite a few things, but the craftsmanship of it all and the attention she paid to fit that captivated me so thoroughly. I could not imagine the total cost of the pieces, but if this was her method of indulgence in regard to expendable income, I was thankful to benefit so richly from it. Each thing I’d ever seen her in was perfectly suited to her body, different shapes, and cuts accentuating new parts of her, drawing my eye along another novel path, framing her anew.</p><p>I’d learned the extent of it when I accidentally dropped all my subtlety at the vision of her in a white bustier she’d worn as part of her ensemble for one of our dinners out together. I hadn’t been able to truly appreciate its loveliness until I saw her in only that and her black jeans upon our return to her home, a bit of her toned stomach showcased between the opposing fabrics. When she caught my surprised gaze, she’d somewhat unenthusiastically revealed that she had a ‘collection’. She walked me to two large wooden armoires at the back of her rather large closet, which I learned was originally a small office off the bedroom. Moving past her hanging or folded or tossed away clothes, I explored on my own. She did not stay with me after telling me I could explore their contents and it was…an experience. Besides a superb accruement of bras and panties, there were corsets, additional bustiers, garter belts, camisoles, stockings, and items I could not name displayed finely and purposefully.  Many even looked as though they might be custom-made. Even now I’d regrettably only seen her in a small proportion of them.  </p><p>On reflection, it seemed Natsuki had something of a penchant for private spaces. The room in which she’d housed everything related to HiME, the cliffs she still visited, and the closet…I’d been equally stunned by all showings, albeit for different reasons. Where my tendency was to bury my obsessions in heaps of guilt, push them inward…it would seem she shoved hers outward and assigned them secret shrines where she could visit them. Perhaps that was why we were able to help each other find the middle.</p><p>Since I’d first seen glimpses of this fixation, I’d puzzled over whether she would be drawn in by seeing me in more unusual or intricate pieces as well. Though what I had was nice, they were not of the same caliber as hers. I could not say that I’d ever worn some of the styles she owned either.  It was not uninteresting to me, the idea of wearing such things and her speaking of my stockings the way she was did immediately turn to visions of her hands running smoothly along the length of my legs while wearing them. Those thoughts were warming me too quickly. </p><p>“I suppose that ultimately I am asking about your lingerie because I cannot tell if there is something a shade fetishistic to your enthusiasm for it.”</p><p>“Fetishistic?!” It was difficult to distinguish if it was offense, shock, or both in her voice.</p><p>“I meant only to ask if it excites you or is it merely a beautiful luxury?” I clarified.</p><p>“Liking something doesn’t make it a fetish.” She grumbled and I watched orange triangular ears shifting just beyond her ribs, as a delayed crack of thunder lagged behind the flash. The storm was retreating, I thought.   </p><p>“That is true.” I decided…perhaps foolishly, to test her a bit more because the root of her reaction was not clear-cut to me. “I would admit there is something I find fascinating as well in wearing stockings. That particular slide as you draw them up your legs, the contrasting sensations of restriction and nakedness in wearing them. Even the specific feel of them, their silk-like smoothness on your palms. Though I do find myself wondering if it would be the same, were it the hands of another instead. I think it would not.”</p><p>Her eyes remained wide for a moment and that particular flavor of surprise I so enjoyed glowing inside them before they rolled nearly all the way back in her head. She sighed with her whole body, then pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “You are such an ass sometimes.”</p><p>It was impossible to predict when she would play back with me, but I really wished now was one of those instances. “Ikezu.”</p><p>“How am <em>I</em> mean when you’re the one saying something like to screw with me?” It was difficult to tell if there was real upset there.</p><p>“And if it was not to ‘screw with you’?” I said lightly, attempting to undo what felt like a settling heaviness.</p><p>“Then why?” She questioned, her face remaining in a neutral state I could not read.</p><p>“It has been some time since I’ve purchased anything of that type. Perhaps I was leading up to asking if Natsuki would be willing to help me select pieces that thoroughly appeal to her non-fetish?” </p><p>There was a definite glare thrown my way and I should not have said that last part…my nerves were getting the better of me. “Enough about that already.” I’d pushed her too much.</p><p>“Is it truly of no interest to you?”  I asked, extremely conscious of my tone. There was a distinct possibility that I’d failed to detect an underlying sensitivity about my choice of subjects. I initially believed this reaction was mostly embarrassment, but perhaps it was agitation.</p><p>There was about a minute where she was studying me as if she weren’t sure whether it was worth answering me. “If you’re being serious right now, then there’s way too much teasing for me to get that.” </p><p>I had treated this too casually. “Kanin-na. I did not intend for my teases to come across as they have. It is something of an instinctual reaction to my own discomfort.”</p><p>She shook her head, rubbing at her eyebrows. There was an obviously tense exhale and I did not fully understand the strength of her response. “‘Cause you think I have some crazy fetish.”</p><p>Though I would’ve thought nothing of her interest in lingerie turning out to be an actual fetish, it was now apparent that was not a term she was at all comfortable with. There had been no playfulness before, and I’d made a misstep. “I did not mean for what I said to bother you.”</p><p>“You just said it makes you uncomfortable, Shizuru” It was a frustrated murmur through her hands as she ran them over her face, her dog’s head poking up to gaze worriedly at her.</p><p>It was clear we misunderstood one another, and I would need to attempt to remedy that with self-exposure. “The strength of my interest in wearing something you’ve chosen and that my word choice is distressing you unintentionally, those are what made me uncomfortable. Not anything else.”</p><p>Rolling her head slowly toward me, her frown gave way and she gave me another of those examining looks. “So, what? You’re telling me that you honestly want me to pick you out some lingerie just ‘cause I’d like to see you in it?”</p><p>Making sure to hold her eyes, I gave her a small, but genuine smile as I told her the truth. “I honestly do want that, yes.”</p><p>“…why?” It was said softly and with a lack of irritation that indicated my shift to seriousness was working as I wanted it to. </p><p>However, what I would say next was a tad more difficult to get out. “Though I know you would not wear them for this purpose, the idea of wearing something you’ve chosen for me…if I knew it was for your enjoyment, then it would excite me in turn. And as I said before, you do have wonderful taste. I have no doubt it would be absolutely beautiful.”</p><p>Rubbing her lips together, she pulled at her bare earlobe. “Oh.”</p><p>“Was that too candid?”</p><p>“That’s not it.” A deep breath was taken, her beautiful face illuminated by lightning briefly, as her fingers dragged preemptively through the trembling dog’s back while distant thunder rumbled quietly. “But,” She sighed. “I don’t know how to do something like that.”</p><p>That was a strange response, and I did not fully comprehend it. “I am not sure what you mean.”</p><p>“I mean you’d have to figure out what kind of scenario it makes any sense for you to wear it in. I’m not gonna be able to do that.”</p><p>A <em>scenario?</em> “Would you wish this to be part of a roleplay? Is that it?”</p><p>“Don’t be weird. You know that’s not what I meant.” <em>Did </em>I know that? She seemed to pick up on the legitimacy of my confusion and gentled herself to a small degree. “It’s not like you wear the kinds of things I’d pick all the time. How would you just have something like that on already when stuff happens?”</p><p>“Do I not occasionally have such items on already when things happen between us? What would make this different?” I asked, unsure what the distinction was, and why it was so profound to her.</p><p>“They’re not <em>for </em>me, Shizuru.” That was not entirely accurate. I often selected things to wear when we went out specifically because I thought she might like them, but it would’ve been foolish to argue intention when she was speaking with relative comfort on an obviously sensitive subject.</p><p>“As for the scenario question, is it that an unveiling of sorts is important to you?”</p><p>“Well it isn’t like you could be laying around waiting for me in it.”  That was a fascinating stance to take because it was exactly as though I could do that. She seemed to be confusing possibility with preference. “You’d have to be dressed first for it to make any sense.”</p><p>I had absolutely no objections if her preferences involved stripping me to see whatever she chose, but waves of confusion were undulated distractingly across my skin. There were parts of her thinking I did not understand.</p><p>“Would what I was wearing over it be of any consequence?” I asked because I’d pictured something as simplistic as a showcase with little fanfare…had given no thought really to atmosphere. Perhaps I should’ve known better where she was concerned. She did seem to enjoy a slow build and some ambiance, though she most likely did not recognize this in herself.</p><p>“Not really. It would just have to be the right kind of outfit for the situation.” That did not seem like a <em>‘not really’</em> and again, the <em>‘situation’</em> sounded rather like she wanted some sort of roleplay. “And what if I needed to leave on anything you were wearing? It would all need to work together.”</p><p>It was almost impossible to prevent my face from reacting to this addition, but I barely managed. Even if I could not fully comprehend her perspective, how endearing she was to me right now was absurd. What in the world was she picturing? That I could crawl inside her mind right now. How she could be so specific and vague at the same time, it drove me to distraction. The pieces of my outfit she might leave on, what need there would ever be to leave things on, what this outfit might even be, the options were parading inside my head.</p><p>Nodding as if I saw absolutely nothing incomprehensible in that did require some acting. “We can purchase other articles of clothing to pair with what you choose.”</p><p>She flicked her hand in the air dismissively, before scratching at the skin behind her ear anxiously. It was difficult to know what she was feeling, but it did not seem entirely positive.</p><p>“I’ll look through your stuff first.” Was all she said.</p><p>“That seems prudent.” At least it was clear with that statement, that when she referred to an outfit, she was referring to the types of things she’d seen me in before.</p><p>Though artistic appreciation was a component, there was inarguably more to this. I could not identify what the more was per se. Nonetheless, I had an unquelled suspicion that there was some degree of kink. I knew better now than to say so, but the notion that I might be able to coax that out of her was perversely enticing. The only thing stopping me from pressing further was the discomposure permeating her responses.  </p><p>She said nothing more, but I could see her shifting her legs beneath the covers as she retreated inside her thoughts. I considered if it was that she was physically uncomfortable or some response to our conversation. It was impossible to tell and soon we both lost ourselves in the spinning currents of our respective minds. Mine was brimming with eagerness and a touch of unease from the pressure inherent in handling a thing I could not fully comprehend correctly. Instead of thinking too deeply on it now, I attempted to simply bask in the fact that I had a gorgeous lover with exquisite style as far as lingerie was concerned, who was potentially willing to curate an outfit for me…an outfit which if purchased would then be revealed during a night of mutual pleasure. It was an absolutely lovely thought, but one that only stayed with me for a short time.</p><p>Natsuki had given me too many things to think on tonight for my mind to stay put. Reflecting on all we’d talked about…the most surprising for me was the range of topics. She had asked quite a few direct questions which implied future intent. There was a particular moment my mind returned to now. Embarrassed as I was to mention the idea of her being rougher with me, mostly for fear of her reaction, I was driven to full admission by memories of the extra enthusiasm she displayed following her workouts or runs. On the occasions we caught each other after her post-exercise showers, she had this unshakable dedication to pushing me completely over the edge of decency. It was these encounters that made me consider that she might be willing to engage in something a touch more aggressive now and again. I attempted not to mentally revisit the firmness of her kiss or that huskiness her voice acquired when she confirmed it for me. I’d never considered that I might end up mentioning such a thing to her in the context of describing the type of orgasm it could produce. That was an unanticipated twist to the difficulty level of such a disclosure. Paired with the brief broaching of a toy even if her fingers would have been more than satisfactory, my mind now latched onto the more novel of the two options.</p><p>That she’d even think to mention the prospect of a toy was only marginally less shocking than her apparent interest in using it on me rather than the reverse. In my sexual past, it was uncommon to the point of scarce that if a toy of any kind was brought it, I was the recipient. Really the only time I could remember, revolved around the use of a specific type of toy where both partners received in unison. If Natsuki and I did decide to go so far as to use a strap-on in the future, which I now realized was an assumption as to the type of toy she’d meant, though a reasonable one…she would be the first to do such a thing to me. That I’d only ever given and never received was not a piece of information I intended to give her. Perhaps after, but she would likely misinterpret it as a request for undue gentleness if I told her beforehand. It was not something I would’ve anticipated, my excitement over the idea.</p><p>That she would be the first also held a bizarre charm. Having one used on me was not anything I’d seriously entertained with any other lover, and past offers had always seemed an afterthought or obligation rendering them unappealing. There were so few things I’d not dabbled in at this point…and that was not quite as charming a thought.</p><p>I had abandoned the few toys I’d acquired when I moved to this house. They were from a time in my life that I didn’t wish to revisit and when I did not have the means or inclination to invest in quality sex toys. Since, I’d only bought a vibrator, having no need or desire for anything else. In any case, I knew myself well enough that I would likely be spending my next moments of quietude perusing the internet and researching suitable items…for the sake of preparedness if nothing else. There was simply no way thinking on this was healthy right now; no way that considering how her impressive stamina and lean muscling would factor in could be constructive either. This was flustering me significantly more than I would’ve liked. My heart was speeding, and I tried desperately to shut down such fantastical mental avenues.  </p><p>“Why’d you ask me about that stuff? My piercings and lingerie, I mean.” Her inquiry blessedly saved me from my own pounding heart, pulling me back to her completely with how troubled she seemed.  </p><p>Collecting myself, I continued with my conscious honesty, as it led to much more desirable outcomes than my natural tendency to tease had. “I suppose I asked about them because I want to understand those things which are unique to you. I want to understand what might bring you pleasure.”</p><p>Her puzzlement and balking were both apparent. “You understand what works for me already. I don’t need anything else.”</p><p>“I meant to say that if there are things you <em>want</em> rather than need, whether a type of touch or something more elaborate…whatever those things are, I want you to know that you can indulge them with me if you’d like to. It may have been a roundabout and rather ineffectual method of arriving at that notion, and I may have peppered it with selfishness, but that is where my mind is now. More than anything else, I do not want you to feel any shame for those things you may want.”</p><p>She studied me for quite some time before she spoke. “‘Cause you know what it’s like to feel guilty for wanting something?” That piercing cut of insight solidified inside me.</p><p>It took me a moment or so to recover from and she did not respond to it, likely because she already knew what she claimed was indeed accurate. “Perhaps, yes.”</p><p>I did see shades of myself, reflections of my own difficulties in her discomfort. I knew what it was…the yearning to feel differently, the unwanted envy of perceived normalcy in others. “I don’t understand why I think about some of the stuff I do.”</p><p>I was not sure exactly what she was referring to, I answered in a general way that retained the core of what I meant to communicate. “The whys of what I do or do not enjoy from a sensual perspective are elusive to me at times too. Even if you<em> are </em>uncertain about the why of something though, what would be the harm in trying?”</p><p>“What if you hate it?” She asked, gaze averted.</p><p>“I cannot imagine you wanting to do anything with me or to me that I would hate. On the off chance that I did not enjoy something though, I would tell you so and you could do the same.” I gave her a smile, but there was no smile returned from her or eye contact…only a face of contemplation. “I hope you understand that this conversation is not because I need things to be different either. Your choosing to talk to me about this at all…” I reached over to squeeze her hand at which point she finally looked at me. “It means quite a lot to me. I love you Natsuki…very much.” That stirred her, which warmed my heart.</p><p>“I love you too.” She said quietly, watching me with an undecipherable expression, but growing softness in her eyes. They tended to acquire an affecting gentleness whenever we exchanged such affectations.  </p><p>“It seems that the thunder has stopped. Is Duran-chan recovered?” I said, allowing myself to change the subject. I’d grown very fond of him in the past year, the first typical pet I’d spent some concentrated time with. He was sweet and they were sweet together. His shedding had been my only concern, and she’d been diligent in tending to it since the first she saw of me vacuuming the couch.</p><p>“Yeah, he fell asleep.” Running a finger from the top of his head down to his nose, she sat up and leaned over to lift him, holding him tight to her naked chest, his head beneath her chin.</p><p>She kissed his furry crown repeatedly, rubbing at his cheek while he basked in her attention lazily. Yet again I found myself thinking he was a fortunate dog.</p><p>“I’m gonna put him on his bed.” It was said to herself before he was carried securely and tenderly placed upon his floor cushion, after receiving one last forehead kiss and scratch down his spine. The toddler-sized creature barely stirred throughout this treatment; did not notice the beatific smile he was being given.</p><p>I could not prevent myself from observing her as she stood there. With the placement of her tattoos, I wondered at the deliberateness of the visual she presented. With her facing front, the only visible art was on her foot, the rest of her just a pale expanse of perfect, smooth skin. From the opposite direction her larger tattoos, neck, and back were completely on display, splashing colors and lines across her body…like two versions of her glued together. It was only when she turned to me, that she seemed to remember she was nude and glanced to the side, a hand sliding to her neck. I knew by now that it was my attention and not her body which she felt shy over. She crawled back into bed somewhat hastily which was adorable. Moving much closer to me than before, on her side now, I turned on mine toward her, wondering if she wished to lie together again. </p><p>There was a long stretch of silence, in which she stared openly at me as she was wont to when there was something she was mulling over. I struggled to resist asking her what was on her mind, letting her consider whatever was occupying it instead. With what we’d talked about, there was likely much for her to pick over. There were still many things fluttering about my brain too, but they melted when I gazed at her. All too quickly, I fell into an appreciation of her facial features. It was not often I took them in so freely and at such close range. She was the one to break through our unobtrusive silence.</p><p>Training eyes which were gray in the darkness on mine, she reached out to dance fingers along my side before scratching at the base of her skull. “Sorry I got annoyed before, but I wish you hadn’t called it a fetish. That’s…I don’t know.”</p><p>A flash of guilt filled me because, in some respects, I should’ve realized that this discussion would be sensitive for her at least. I had been woefully incorrect in assuming my questions would be less emotionally charged. Our sexual relations were generally the most difficult place for me to determine where her lines fell. It was where I had the least commonality with her as far as feelings and mental processes went.</p><p>Running the back of my hand over her jawline, I observed her carefully. “Do not apologize. It was not my intention to make you feel deviant in any way. That was, in fact, the exact opposite of my intention.”</p><p>There was a returned smile from her this time, and she surprised me by turning her head to capture the flesh at the palmar base of my thumb with her teeth. An interesting choice and I regarded her questioningly before she released it, looking chastised for no reason. Natsuki had a well-buried and closely guarded streak of oddness that snuck past her defenses now and again. I unsurprisingly liked it, while she seemed entirely shocked and nearly ashamed of herself each time it took control.</p><p>It was another few minutes before she spoke. “I get you might not hate it, but what if it bothers you that something crossed my mind at all?”</p><p>“Natsuki,” I concentrated on my exhale, before choosing to reply with something I was not certain would be well received but felt needed, nonetheless. “I do not believe that between the two of us, I am the one these things are likely to bother,” I said as gently as such words could be said, withdrawing my arm and resting it in the space between us.</p><p>Sighing deeply, she shoved hands beneath her pillow and fell into plaintiveness again. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s that for a long time, I thought I was one of those people who just wasn’t sexual.” Agitatedly she ran a hand through her hair, eyes rolling back into her head, and I pushed down my reaction. “It’s been obvious to me for a while now that isn’t the issue. I think I didn’t want to be interested in it.” Her palm slid over her face, while I quietly digested her words. “Wanting to have sex and thinking about sex…it feels good to feel that with you. It does. I’m happy that’s there.” She took a deep breath as I listened, her openness transfixing me as I tried to reserve any judgment until she finished her thoughts. “But wanting it to be any certain way or wanting to try other stuff? That’s a whole other thing to me. If <em>you</em> want something, that’s different. I’m okay with that because I know you know what you want, I trust you. But there’s something that feels screwed up about where my mind goes that way. It’s like my turn-ons just attached themselves randomly to whatever the hell they wanted to…things that have no business being sexual. I don’t trust my brain about this stuff, it doesn’t make sense to me. I used to like lingerie because it was beautiful, I’ve loved it since I was sixteen. I don’t want it to be a fetish. I don’t want to want the things I think about sometimes and I don’t want to be how I am tonight. I don’t want to have to ask you not to touch me.” She shook her head, as she closed her eyes. “I know it sounds stupid, but I feel like something got jostled up in my head when I was in that coma and maybe…I just never came back together right.”</p><p>That was a statement for which I could not keep my response internal. “This is something you’ve considered. That these things may be the result of a brain injury?”</p><p>Her frown was as deep as the crease in her brow. “I mean, it’s possible, isn’t it? Why else would I be so damn complicated this way?”</p><p>It hurt my heart that it would cross her mind, that she would feel conflicted enough over such innocent interests to believe that there was some underlying neurological insult causing it. Though I did not share this with her, because I did not like to bring up past partners, I’d been with girls who had fully realized kinks or fetishes and were hardly troubled by asking me to participate in them. I’d also been with some who found intimacy more challenging than she did. I was always loathed to compare though because things between Natsuki and I were far more mutual than with most others in my past. There was also the fact that she held such a strong separation in her mind between herself and her sexuality as if it were some internal foe. It was difficult for me to relate to, as I seldom felt more myself than when I was having sex. Unusually, I hadn’t the slightest idea how to begin responding, but I tried.   </p><p>“I would not say it <em>is </em>possible, only because there is not anything in you indicative of damage, Natsuki. I know that you will not believe me when I say this to you, but there really is nothing abnormal in desiring or considering anything we’ve spoken of. Or in having some complexity attached to how or when you like to be touched for that matter.” I felt as though I had to reiterate that, even if I doubted it would resonate.</p><p>“I get what you’re saying. I even get that you’re probably right, but that doesn’t change the fact that it doesn’t feel true.” That, I could certainly relate to. Her eyes clenched shut. “That’s what makes me nervous about trying anything else.”</p><p>I wanted to hold her, but I was not sure if such an action would make her feel as though I thought her wounded or damaged somehow. The risk didn’t seem worth it.</p><p>“It’s not as though tonight makes what we’ve mentioned an inevitability. You can change your mind about anything at any time and that would be alright.” It was easier than I might’ve imagined, to bury any detectable scrap of disappointment because my interest in those things was grossly unimportant right now.</p><p>There was a helplessness that dug in as it seeped for her. “It’s not that. Some of what we talked about…” She rolled her eyes at herself, quirking her lips. “Pretty much all the things we’ve talked about tonight, I want them with you.” Her gaze would have communicated all she felt over them if her words did not. Both made me bite my lip. “But I don’t trust myself to not make them awkward if it’s something you’re just doing for me.”</p><p>I could not help it this time and reached out to touch her hip. “If you believe I would only be doing any of this solely for you, then perhaps I’ve not been straightforward enough.” The confusion in her face affirmed that I needed to speak with more directness than I tended to permit myself. She’d taught me that although I’d devoted myself to providing what my partners desired to an unhealthy degree in the past, there was something within it I’d not seen before. Not until trust illuminated it for me. “I take pleasure in your pleasure, and not only because it is my wish to see you pleased. I derive sexual pleasure from providing pleasure. Were you to tell me you wished to be touched in a particular way or to touch me in a particular way…I would think nothing of it, outside of being happy you felt you could tell me. It does not have to be a physical sensation. Being able to give you something you desire, simply watching you experience desire…that is genuinely arousing to me.” Her eyes were saucers, her cheeks a heated red again, body tight and it was clear to me she would need to process my words. “A bit of awkwardness or nervousness would not change that. The only reservations I have, exist because I wish I understood your thoughts better. Were we to attempt to realize anything we spoke of, I would want to be able to provide it in the way you wish to experience it.”</p><p>“Are you…talking about the lingerie thing?” She asked haltingly.</p><p>“The basis of it, yes,” I confirmed. "That is what I am unsure of."</p><p>“I don’t even know if it would make sense if I tried to explain it, Shizuru. I don’t understand it.”</p><p>Cautiously, I volunteered a question to help her begin…anxious over whether or not she would even answer. “Can you tell me your first thought when we began speaking of it?”  </p><p>With two fingers, she scratched at the top of her cheekbone, and I realized it was a reaction to a light blush on her cheeks. “It’s weird, but those couple of times we kissed in your office popped into my head.” When she spoke, it was so low that it was difficult to hear. “It’s not like we do it a lot and it’s a completely idiotic thing to keep doing. We’re gonna get caught one of these times! We almost did the first time.” She gave me something of an admonishing look, but then it thawed with the shake of her head. I said nothing because I could not anticipate where this was going but was really hoping she wouldn’t abandon it. “But I like when we do it. Probably too much.”</p><p>“What is it that you like about it?” I questioned softly, holding back an admission of how much I, myself enjoyed it.</p><p>“…that it just kinda happens? I guess that I don’t worry about much at all while it’s going on. My brain is just these little details I get hung up on.”</p><p>That was interesting. “Will you tell me of one?”</p><p>Waiting, I watched her as she closed her eyes to consider it. “That silk shirt you have…the one you were wearing one when I brought you dinner that time, the lavender one?” I hummed in agreement, knowing both the piece of clothing and the memory immediately but unwilling to risk interrupting her train of thought. “I don’t know why I remember this, but the sleeves slid across my neck when you put your arms around me. It sounded like listening to a seashell. That sound…and the way it felt…the lingerie thing feels like it comes from the same place in my head.” She paused, to heave a sigh. “Your voice does it too, fills up my brain in a good way.” She tossed her hands in the air briefly, before running them across her forehead as I turned her words over. She pushed her hair away from her eyes, before opening them. A rough sigh shoved past her lips. “Weird little things like that turn me on. Your voice definitely does, but it also calms me down too. God, I don’t know. You could read the damn dictionary and I’d listen for hours.”</p><p>I felt myself smiling, a silly flutter in my stomach. I was still caught up in dissecting her response but forced myself to focus. “That is rather sweet, Natsuki.  Though were I to read to you, I’m certain we could find something more entertaining than a dictionary for such purposes, no?”</p><p>I received a somewhat exasperated look and I’d already forgotten not to tease. “All I mean is that it’s always sensory, sounds or colors or images or like…one single sensation. It just overrides everything, and I never know why or where it comes from, but it does. Do you get that?”</p><p>“I believe I do, yes.” Making myself completely serious again, I told her the most resonant thing that came to mind. “Your eyes when they catch the sun...it is not even that I think anything specific when they do. It’s as though thought abandons me entirely and all that I am left with is this vivid and breathtaking shade of green that I can never mentally replicate outside of visually experiencing it. Is that at all similar to what you were saying?”</p><p>“You feel like that about my eyes, Shizuru?” I smiled softly at the absolute disbelief in her face, which was quite slow to fade. It was rather adorable.</p><p>“Yes, I do,”</p><p>“…hmm.” Her forehead crinkled as she stewed in wherever her thoughts had landed, worrying her lip with her teeth.</p><p>“Would you tell me of another detail?” I asked quietly, hoping to continue this.</p><p>“Do you remember that time when I came to see how that big lecture you did went a few months back?” She threw out after some time.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“And I wouldn’t tell you why I blushed like that.” She was very nearly purple then.</p><p>“I do recall. I was honestly worried for you.” Would she reveal herself now? I hadn’t ever asked again, believing it a lost cause.  </p><p>She looked as uncomfortable as I was sure that I had when we’d first started talking. Every bit of me tightened as I waited. “I had my street clothes on ‘cause it was my OR day, but you were all dressed up. Even more dressed up than you usually are. You had these black heels on and a skirt suit, which you pretty much never wear.”  That was true. I preferred blouses or sweaters to full suits, but this was an important talk and I needed to lend a touch of authority to my appearance. “You touched my chin and tilted my head up. You had to ‘cause you were so much taller than normal. It was that at first. The height difference.” I’d always thought she disliked my being taller than she was, even if our height difference was small enough to be unremarkable, especially when compared to the difference between her sister and her. “And you looked like you owned the damn hospital. I…need a minute.” The sheets twisted helplessly in her grip, as her lips tightened and her face pinked yet again. There was a sound almost like a growl she emitted before continuing. “I felt like a teenager about to kiss a full-grown adult. Just so ridiculously young and my palms were literally sweating and what the hell kind of a reaction is that to a pair of heels and a suit?”</p><p>That was unexpected and totally intriguing. Of all that she might’ve felt in that moment, that was not what I would’ve considered. My fingers were pinching at my lip before I noticed they’d moved at all. I did not know how to respond.</p><p>“And then you made it ten times worse when you pushed me up on the top of your desk and grabbed me by my jacket. It was like you knew and you jumped into my head with me. No one’s ever kissed me like that, Shizuru. <em>You’d</em> never kissed me like that. I get there’s something about the way I am. I can tell I make people self-conscious or whatever, even you…but you suddenly weren’t. Jesus, that kiss. It embarrassed the hell out of me, where my mind went. All I kept thinking was what if you…” Her eyes said what her mouth would not. “…on your desk and dressed like that.” I wanted to touch her so intensely, but she’d asked me not to. That afternoon, seeing her dressed so similar to how she was when I’d first encountered her on the bus…a fantasy relived and the excitement of a major talk going well had significantly emboldened me. “That I wanted it right then, even for a second made me blush. It’s such a messed-up thing to picture.”</p><p>Did she truly think such a thing would be anything but appealing to me, even if we would never follow through for obvious reasons? “Were you under the impression that I’ve not had thoughts of you in your own work attire? Or that I’ve never imagined us in my office?”</p><p>“…having sex though?” She clarified in a sort of hissing whisper, as though she believed I might’ve meant something else or someone might overhear us. It was too much and made my mouth ache with withheld laughter. The adorableness was nearly unbearable.</p><p>“Yes, having sex,” I reassured, in my most serious of tones.</p><p>“On top of your desk?! You’ve thought about that?” This poor woman hadn’t the slightest clue the things I’d thought about her, it would seem. As often as her appetites surprised me, her innocence did too. She was such an interesting and lovely mix of contradictory things.  </p><p>“My desk, my chair, against the door. There are many paths that particular fantasy could take, and I’ve mentally traveled quite a few of them.” I admitted plainly.</p><p>“You know I’d never really do it at the hospital, right? We’d both get fir…oi, wait…against the door?! How would that work?”</p><p>She was simply too precious sometimes but were I to answer, it would end her retelling and I did not want that. “Kanin-na for interrupting. I do not think you were finished, were you?”</p><p>A skeptical gaze was thrown my way. “Yeah, ok.” I held my breath until she let it be and started talking again. “I guess the first thing I thought was what those kinda situations would be like if I could pick what you had on underneath. Like if I’d unbuttoned your shirt and it was hanging open on you and the thing I picked was underneath.” Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. “I don’t get it, but for whatever reason, I can’t stop finding you stupidly sexy when your half-dressed.” </p><p>She was clearly as frustrated with herself as she was flustered. The blush was furious at this point as she puffed a bit of air from her mouth, nearly as furious as my heartbeat. There was a blush on my own my cheeks too, because the more she spoke, the more my mind fixed itself on the idea of assertively seducing her. It was something I nearly always wanted to do but had never allowed myself to really consider because of how wrong that had gone for me in the past. It was a natural inclination I resisted. However, she was the first woman in my life to preemptively imply permission with her description of that kiss, or was that me hearing what I dearly wished to? I was not certain, but it did not feel as though it was my mind twisting anything for once. She was absolutely correct in that I was careful with her still, even if I was less careful, but wrong in the assumption she created that nervousness in me. I very much made that on my own and she’d given me no reason to question her receptiveness to my advances.</p><p>I had also assumed her lingering when removing my clothing, studying me as she tended to while disrobing me, was mostly to do with that sense of romanticism and love of foreplay, perhaps even residual nerves. It appeared that assumption was not wholly correct either.</p><p>“I don’t want you to think any of this means I want some big, performative fetish-y thing from you. I don’t. I don’t want anything else at all if I can’t still feel the same. I wanna be able to be in whatever we do, and I don’t know how to stay in it if we change things up because of some ridiculous thought I had. That’s what I meant before when I said I’d make it awkward.” There was a quick glance at me to see if I was following. I could tell both that she was mortified and stirred by the things she’d told me, though only the stirring was mutual.</p><p>Taking her hand, I placed it over my heart, so she could feel it responding. It was important to me that she understood this was affecting me too.</p><p>“Those thoughts are not ridiculous. Are they truly that far removed from my own, when I spoke of desiring a particular attitude over a particular act?” I kept my voice soft, speaking against her hand. “Wanting to create a particular feeling or atmosphere, wanting an act, wanting a specific type of touch…those are very normal desires. I have them too and I would admit, occasionally wants that are far less tame.” I was deliberate in my choice not to look her way as I said that. “But any of these things, we can make of them what we wish to, or we can do nothing at all. If they will not leave you be, I would be happy to explore any of them with you should you want to. But never worry I might think them strange. Even if you do, I won’t. I can promise you that.” Only with my assurances, did I feel compelled to meet her gaze.</p><p>She stared at me forcefully after I’d spoken those words and unsure, I traced her palm and fingers with my own. The few times I could ever get her to speak so in-depth on anything, they completely floored me. I’d never had the opportunity to listen to another’s experience of a shared encounter either. That it was Natsuki telling me of her feelings on something we’d done was mindboggling. I could still not put into words what I thought of her interest in lingerie, but it did not matter honestly. Goodness though…her explanation of that time in my office would be dancing around my mind for days if not weeks. <em>Like a teenager about to kiss a full-grown adult</em>. I had no idea how I felt about that or what my mind would do with that given idle time, but surely it would be nothing decent.</p><p>Without any indication as to why, she drew her hand away from mine, wove it through my hair, and used it to bring my head toward hers. She did not kiss me immediately, simply paused which was puzzling. There was an inexplicable flash of hesitance in her eyes when we were hovering inches apart, then something that was bafflingly close to aversion before she finally slid forward to push her mouth against mine. Unanticipated flares of lust eased in, surprising me as they rolled off her… an unusual hunger growing in the touch of her lips. It was fast evolving into the specific, though rare type of kiss she gave me when she felt need in herself. I did not know how to respond to it, given her earlier request that I not touch her.</p><p>Did she mean this as a lead-in to touching me again then? I was not sure how she meant any of this, only that it felt pregnant with charge. Having been thoroughly pleased earlier, my body was interested but sluggish in reacting to these sensations. Warmth may have been starting a slow creep across my skin already, but she…having been denied all night and heightened, to begin with, was nearly twitching as the passion in our kisses increased. I hadn’t the slightest inclination if I should be ending this before we worked her into any further level of frustration, but I did not want it to stop really. My conflict arose only because I did not want the incredible tightness I could already feel in her muscles. Whatever was occurring though, did not feel as though it was mine to halt.</p><p>Before I could agonize any further, her lower legs and feet hooked unexpectedly around my upside thigh and pulled it firmly between her own. The strength of it forced our bodies flush; the speed startling me enough that the tiniest gasp of a noise escaped me. The feel of her excitement coating my skin and the incredible heat of her penetrating deep into my muscle…both squeezed at my insides. I’d known she was aroused regardless of her oversensitivity, had been intermittently throughout the night, because I could see it in her eyes. I had not known it was to this extent though. After a quick, but strained gaze, she tucked her head into my neck, hands gripping my shoulders. Her cheeks, I could feel their redness burning below my ear.</p><p>Cautiously, she rocked herself against me once, the hold of her legs very tight around mine. It prompted a groan from her that whistled through clenched teeth, vibrating the skin below my ear. My eyes widened considerably. The cloud of unease boiling off her opposed another reluctant sway of her lower body. It produced that same cry of a response. My heart began to thump clumsily as I waited, unsure but wanting to somehow encourage whatever was happening.  </p><p>“Natsuki,” I whispered. “What is it you need?”</p><p>“I…don’t…” Her forehead rolled along the base of my neck, as her fingers gripped me tighter. She moved herself again, seeming unable to help it. Another groan caught in her throat which tapered into a breathy exhale. Everything within me was set ablaze. “…just…ngh.” Her words failed her as they dissolved into a soft whimper.</p><p>I craved her lips or to see her face, both. Perhaps she sensed this because her mouth was on mine not a moment later.</p><p>“…is…this.” The words were broken by our kisses and half air against my lips. “Ok?”</p><p>I could not even respond verbally. My hand found its way to the jut of her hipbone. Before I considered it, I hurriedly urged the slick glide of her body, added my own strength to it.</p><p>“Shi-ah…zuru,” Her gasp was harsh, and hearing my name was a sharp pang of desire deep in my abdomen as she shuddered, tightening right back up. Her lips pulled away from mine, as my other hand slipped to the back of her neck and perhaps that was not wise. “…don’t.” She murmured and I realized that was too much.   </p><p>“Kanin-na.” Our eyes locked briefly at my hurried whisper, hers darting away and then returning anxiously as she shook her head. I kept making missteps with her tonight. Taking a moment to reset myself, to push away my guilt, I moved my hands away, resting them with almost no pressure on her sides instead.  “Please.” I pressed my lips to hers. “…do not stop.”</p><p>It was pure relief that washed over me when that slow churning of her hips began anew, drawing shuddery releases of breath from us both. This time I kept myself busy with kissing her, kept the rest of me from interfering at all.  Letting her control this how she liked was harder than I would have imagined. Her eyelids slipped down, and I found myself leaning back just enough to stare at her beautiful face, the tension in it dissipating with each motion. Her raspy exhalations spilled over my mouth and chin. The noises trapped within them were very different than the sounds I was used to from her. They were a deeper, more relaxed rumbling from the back of her throat with a tempo that echoed her movements. Each dwindled to an even more gorgeous little hum at the end. My head was as heavy with them as it was with the physical sensation of her riding my thigh. Her building rhythm gradually smoothed to a sinuous sway that sucked me in completely. It was impossible not to respond. My own hips stirred helplessly, reciprocally against nothing as I lost my fight to still them.</p><p>Could something like this really work for her when my touch could not? It was an entirely different sort of pressure…one that would have done nothing for me but pleasantly tease. Because of that, something like this had not even crossed my mind. I wished that it had though. The undeniable carnality of her clutching at my shoulders, legs wrapped around mine as she ground herself on me was beyond description. Soft cries interspersed themselves now within muffled moans as her movements grew in strength. My mouth was dreadfully dry, my lungs leaden in the wake of such devastating provocation. Unable to halt myself any longer, my hand slipped from her neck, pushing through the narrow space between her and my body. Though it was an awkward position to do this, I needed to if only to stop myself from touching her. A higher degree of comfort with such things in her presence, given her earlier request, was perhaps not a bad idea either. That was pure excuse, because the rolling of my own hips against my hand, it was prompt and rather needy and drew my eyes closed immediately. The first quiet moan escaped me all too quickly.  </p><p>Her breathing was becoming labored enough that I opened my eyes, noticing hers were lasered in on my arm where it led down my body. “Are you…” I nodded, feeling the pink settling in my cheeks yet again tonight. So unusual. “Shit, Shizuru,”</p><p>Her lips were back on mine, kisses keen and firm. Her enthusiastic response to it was a little surprising, though welcome. My body, despite its previous sleepiness, reacted as it always did to my fingers…quickly.</p><p>I had to temper my own touch, stretch and slow it. Keeping pace with her as best I could, she melted me further by nibbling my earlobe and biting softly at my neck around those soft, deep sighs. It was delicious torment, us tangled up while I played keep-away with my release, wanting to stay with her as long as I could stand. Drinking in the sight and feel of her building her own against my skin, made me feel very near to drunk. It was another few immersive and blissful minutes before her fingernails dug deep into my shoulders. I took it as a cue, changing my own pressure while she gripped me. A stuttered procession of coarse groans escaped her throat while she tensed mightily. Her legs squeezed mine almost painfully, as her back and neck curled. As I moaned quietly into her the scant space between our faces, a lovely, gentle climax rolled through me in turn…taking its time.   </p><p>When she eased her grip, she went unusually limp…no shaking, no tensing. Pushing hair away from her face, I smiled lazily at her as I withdrew onto my back, needing to extend my leg. There was a strong desire for closeness after something so new, and I urged her toward me. She nearly flopped across my side as we rested, as I held her to me, attempting to process what we’d just done. I marveled over how staggeringly unexpected that was, how deliciously wonderful as she all but melted into me. A powerful flood of relieved contentment came as well, that she’d found this on her own. I’d not been the one to discover or suggest or even imagine what we’d just done, only accompanied her in the experience.</p><p>Unwelcome tension took her moments later and regretfully stole the calm away. I was puzzled, perhaps even slightly saddened, and let my expression say so. She frowned as she traced the marks on my opposite shoulder, staring at them with still hazy eyes from across my body. “Sorry.”</p><p>I gazed at my skin briefly, utterly unconcerned. “It is nothing, really.”</p><p>They barely even stung, were more fingernail impressions than anything else, tiny half-moons with only the shortest of raised tracks trailing from them here or there. Not that I would’ve cared tremendously if she did really scratch me. Her hand reached down to the thigh that had been trapped between her own moments ago, face disturbed when her fingers met the moisture still there. I’d not seen her so skittish since our very first time, but I hoped she understood that I held none of whatever reservations she had over it.</p><p>Placing my hand on her burning cheek, I waited until I had her beautiful eyes. “Natsuki…I found it rather sexy. Every bit of it.”</p><p>She seemed unsure still as she stared resolutely downward, swallowing thickly. I decided not to say anything more on it, understanding that this was a lot for her even if I did not understand why exactly. She’d chosen to do it anyway. That could be enough and was certainly progress.</p><p>Gradually, she began to settle again until in a sudden and unexpectedly girlish gesture of shock, she gasped. Her body jerked and she slapped hands against her forehead, fingers curling into claws.</p><p>“FUCK!!!” My eyelids popped open fully. “Duran!”</p><p>It took me a moment, her using that particular curse word both unusual and shocking, especially at that volume. Then it occurred to me what had disturbed her. There was taboo for her about the dog being in the room, which I understood but in truth, we’d both forgotten his presence. Turning and rolling over onto my front, as much to hide my amusement as to check on him, I peered over in the direction of his bed. She scrambled up beside me, flopping on her stomach with comedic speed, and stared at him aghast, with her brow a collection of wrinkles. He was slumbering, unperturbed, though he had changed position to turn his back away from us. Perhaps in subtle protest?</p><p>“He appears fine. At least externally, Natsuki. Though he may be disguising some mental or emotional anguish.” I said, folding my arms and resting my chin on them.</p><p>“Don’t joke. He shouldn’t see stuff like that!” Her fingers were pinching furiously at the bridge of her nose. I could tell she really believed what she was saying, and though I was sorely tempted to toss out a joke about sex being a wonderful expression of love when had between consenting adults, I held myself back because I didn’t want to rile her up any more than she already was.</p><p>“He may not have. His back is turned.” I supplied.</p><p>“He probably turned around because it upset him! He could’ve thought we were hurting each other.”</p><p>I doubted that was the case. “I would think if he were bothered or truly worried for your safety, he would’ve made some sort of a fuss, no? He seems to have slept through it.”</p><p>She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. I can’t believe I forgot he was here. Damn it!”</p><p>“Has he never seen such a thing before?”</p><p>“What?! No!!”</p><p>I let my knuckles draw along her upper arm, considering what to say. There was one thing she did for him whenever some upsetting event occurred such as veterinary visits or fireworks.</p><p>“What if I cook him an egg of apology tomorrow morning to set it right? It was only the thunderstorm that caused this. It would not have happened otherwise. He may forgive the scandalizing were his favorite breakfast offered.”</p><p>She nodded, still looking slightly anxious and a little annoyed by my phrasing. “He likes his eggs…”</p><p>“Sunnyside up, yes. I remember.”</p><p>Chewing her lip, she looked suddenly softened, gazing toward her beloved pet. “He looks okay. Doesn’t he?”</p><p>Nodding gently, I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I would happily make you one too if you would like.”</p><p>Her laugh was quiet and nearly a scoff. “An egg of apology?”</p><p>I rubbed at her upper arm again, leaning my head against her shoulder, still feeling some lingering bit of emotion over what had occurred between us. “It would be an unapologetic egg in your case, I suppose.”</p><p>She crept her fingers over to interlace with mine, resting both our hands against her bicep. “As much as I’m sure I’d love whatever the hell an unapologetic egg is, Alyssa’s coming over. I’ll make breakfast.”</p><p>Tiredness was beginning to settle heavily over me, and I barely stifled a yawn. “French toast?”</p><p>She puffed out a snort. “How’d you know?”</p><p>“Because my Natsuki is quite the doting older sister.” My heart stopped at the verbal slip, the use of a possessive term. I had not meant to say it and my eyes shifted helplessly toward her as I pulled away. There was no reaction at all, except her typical warning stare as concerned my teasing and a tiny smirk, as she pulled my hand back to her arm. I could not stop myself from drawing attention away from my words if only to diffuse the gathering anxiety in my stomach. “Also you bought a loaf of that sweeter bread yesterday and some syrup. They are not items which you would buy usually.”</p><p>“I’ll cook you something else.” She volunteered, knowing I was not much for sweet breakfasts, that my tastes ran toward more traditional and lighter fare. Occasionally was fine though, most especially where it was meant to be the three of us sharing a home-cooked meal.</p><p>“That is sweet of you but unnecessary. You know that I will eat whatever you make.”  There was this lingering disbelief she had, that I could be so uninvested and flexible with what I ate. That was not to say I wasn’t careful or didn’t appreciate good food, but I would eat a polite amount of nearly anything offered with company. Perhaps it was because she was constantly cognizant of her own food selection and significantly more invested in the sensory experience of eating than I was. As much as I enjoyed the taste of certain things, my enjoyment was only at the level of her indifference where meals were concerned.</p><p>“Shizuru…” I wondered if she would say something now about me calling her mine and I lifted my eyes, attempting to hide the nervousness devouring my insides.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Thanks.” It was not at all what I was expecting, and I felt my head tilt. “For tonight. You didn’t have to tell me any of that or be so good about everything.”</p><p>She certainly did not have to tell me the things she’d told me either and as far as I was concerned, there was nothing to be good about. I did not say that though, knowing she would not agree. “No thanks are needed. I’m happy you feel comfortable enough to speak with me on it and I enjoyed tonight very much.”</p><p>“Me too.” The agreement was quick and authentic before she exhaled roughly through her nose. “We need to sleep. It’s two in the morning.”</p><p>We did. “Mm, that would be wise, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>Both of us took our turns in her attached bathroom, performing necessary and long-delayed nightly rituals. Ten or so minutes later we were back in bed and I was happy to see she’d made no efforts to dress when I returned to the bedroom. Waking up naked with her was such a gorgeous experience and one only infrequently allowed to me. She sat up to turn off the new dimmable bedside lamp on the nightstand, as I smoothed the covers over myself.  Curious, I watched her as she paused and sunk into whatever final thing was floating in her mind. A heavy sigh escaped her as a last unprovoked, though light blush bloomed gently on her cheeks. She’d certainly made up for the initial lack of blushing in the last hour or so. Her eyes focused deliberately away from me, as she held the sheet to the center of her chest. I did not know what to make of it.  </p><p>“Give me your measurements tomorrow. I’ll start looking.” The clicking of a light switch was a punctuation mark, perfectly matched to the end of her sentence.</p><p>It took me a moment to connect the threads of our prior conversation and when I did, I resolved to keep what I felt out of my voice, staring up into the darkness with an unseen smile. “I can do that.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>